He smiled.—“The living tramp the dead!”
They told him—“You have done a wrong!”
He asked—“Which is my faulty song?”
They cried—“Your life lies wrecked and vain!”
He laughed.—“That shell? Pray, look again!”
They shrieked—“Go forth! An outcast be!”
He answered—“Thanks. You make me free!”
IX. THE NEWEST BELIEVER
Through his sick brain the shrieking bullet stormed,
Wrecking the chambers of his spirit’s state.