And this deid thing, whale-white obscenity,
This horror that I writhe in—is my soul!
Is it the munelicht or a leprosy
That spreids aboot me; and a thistle
Or my ain skeleton through wha’s bare banes
A fiendish wund’s begood to whistle?
The devil’s lauchter has a hwll like this.
My face has flown open like a lid
—And gibberin’ on the hillside there
Is a’ humanity sae lang has hid!...