THE EYE AND THE TRUTH

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Up from the fret of the earth-world, through the Seven Circles of Flame,

With the seven holes in Its tunic for sign of the death-in-shame,

To the little gate of Valhalla the coward-spirit came.

Cold, It crouched in the man-strong wind that sweeps Valhalla’s floor;

Weak, It pawed and scratched on the wood; and howled, like a dog, at the Door

Which is shut to the souls who are sped in shame, for ever and evermore:

For It snuffed the Meat of the Banquet-boards where the Threefold Killers sit,

Where the Free Beer foams to the tankard-rim, and the Endless Smokes are lit....

And It saw the NakÉd Eye come out above the lintel-slit.

And now It quailed at NakÉd Eye which judges the naked dead;

And now It snarled at NakÉd Truth that broodeth overhead;

And now It looked to the earth below where the gun-flames flickered red.

It muttered words It had learned on earth, the words of a black-coat priest

Who had bade It pray to a pulpit god—but ever Eye’s Wrath increased;

And It knew that Its words were empty words, and It whined like a homeless beast:

Till, black above the lintel-slit, the NakÉd Eye went out;

Till, loud across the Killer-Feasts, It heard the Killer-Shout—

The three-fold song of them that slew, and died ... and had no doubt.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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