Meanwhile out of that inner heat
That thrills anon the human kind
And rends the cold, incrusting sheet
Of stale traditions, lies enshrined,
Accords of jealous interest,
Hatreds of race, and bastard rights,
And every influence unblest
The bloom of human love that blights—
Out of the soul’s hot inner cell
Breaks forth implacable a curse,
The curse of him who loveth well—
Of all the curses none is worse.