To ceaseless vivisection.
The Cynic sharply sees, but sees not far;
The eye that hunts the mote may miss the star
Too great for scorn's detection.
"Dream not, oh friend, because I let the light
On lurid London through the cloak of night
(As was my undertaking.)
That I've a spirit wholly given to scorn,
Or blind to all, save sin, that with the morn
Will see a bright awaking.