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Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights —
With plain inspecting face —
"Did you" or "Did you not," to ask —
'Tis "Conscience" — Childhood's Nurse —
With Martial Hand she strokes the Hair
Upon my wincing Head —
"All" Rogues "shall have their part in" what —
The Phosphorous of God — -
Why, oh why was Kater lifted
From the darkness, where he drifted
All unknown, and raised to honour,
Side by side with Dick O'connor,
In the Council, free from row?
Who is Kater, anyhow?
Did he lend our armies rally,
Like the recent Billy Dalley?
Did he lend a Premier money,...Who is the East?
The Yellow Man
Who may be Purple if He can
That carries in the Sun.
Who is the West?
The Purple Man
Who may be Yellow if He can
That lets Him out again.Who never lost, are unprepared
A Coronet to find!
Who never thirsted
Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!
Who never climbed the weary league —
Can such a foot explore
The purple territories
On Pizarro's shore?
How many Legions overcome —
The Emperor will say?...Who never wanted — maddest Joy
Remains to him unknown —
The Banquet of Abstemiousness
Defaces that of Wine —
Within its reach, though yet ungrasped
Desire's perfect Goal —
No nearer — lest the Actual —
Should disentrall thy soul —Who occupies this House?
A Stranger I must judge
Since No one know His Circumstance —
'Tis well the name and age
Are writ upon the Door
Or I should fear to pause
Where not so much as Honest Dog
Approach encourages.
It seems a curious Town —
Some Houses very...Who saw no Sunrise cannot say
The Countenance 'twould be.
Who guess at seeing, guess at loss
Of the Ability.
The Emigrant of Light, it is
Afflicted for the Day.
The Blindness that beheld and blest —
And could not find its Eye.Who were "the Father and the Son"
We pondered when a child,
And what had they to do with us
And when portentous told
With inference appalling
By Childhood fortified
We thought, at least they are no worse
Than they have been described.
Who are "the Father and the Son"...Whoever disenchants
A single Human soul
By failure of irreverence
Is guilty of the whole.
As guileless as a Bird
As graphic as a star
Till the suggestion sinister
Things are not what they are —