Than the imperial spark thou quenchest in me
Thou mak'st thy imperial fires whence I did spring,
The fount of us so indissoluble
That what shames thee shames me.
Earth, is this vengeance?
Nay, I see clearer. Rest unstained of me,
Thou God that art the father of my being.
The spirit of me, which is Thou, makes cause with thee
Against me. We must be inviolable
Or men will point their fingers—when We fall.