And strike broad roots, and branch again, lengthening their cool arcades:
And the dervish madly danceth there, and the faquir is torturing his flesh,
And the calm brahmin worshippeth the sleek and pampered bull:
At the base lean jackals coil, while from above depending
With dull malignant stare watcheth the branch-like boa.
Even so, in man's heart is a sin that is the root of all evil;
Whose fibres strangle the affections, whose branches overgrow the mind:
And oftenest beneath its shadow thou shalt meet distorted piety,—
The clenched and rigid fist, with the eyes upturned to heaven,
Fanatic zeal with miserly severity, a mixture of gain with godliness,