And yet no neighbour charges them with guilt.
Accusers, sternest, themselves keep, within;
“Guilty,” they plead; unpardonable sin.
If a joy, ’tis but to avow their shame;
The story’s essence always is the same:
“Fool I! So wholly hateful did it seem—
Torture to my eyes—slant of a sun beam;
Needs shut it out forthwith—so simply how,
As by sending soul, body straight below?”—
Next moment!