Chapter VIII: The Devil Among the Tailors

They groaned—“His aims are not as ours.”
He mused—“What end to mortal powers?”

They urged—“Your fair ideals have fled.”
He smiled.—“The living tramp the dead!”

They told him—“You have done a wrong!”
He asked—“Which is my faulty song?”

They cried—“Your life lies wrecked and vain!”
He laughed.—“That shell? Pray, look again!”

They shrieked—“Go forth! An outcast be!”
He answered—“Thanks. You make me free!”