From you, he almost seemed to touch before! Abate
Complacency you will, I judge, at what 's divulged!
Some flabbiness you fixed, some vacancy out-bulged,
Some—much—nay, all, perhaps, the outward man 's your work:
But, inside man?—find him, wherever he may lurk,
And where 's a touch of you in his true self?
LXXII
I wish
Some wind would waft this way a glassy bubble-fish
O' the kind the sea inflates, and show you, once detached