III

Oh, masquerader, With a hard face white-enamelled, What are you now? Do you care no longer how

My heart is trammelled, Evader? Is this you, after all, Metallic, obdurate

With bowels of steel? Did you never feel?— Cold, insensate, Mechanical!

Ah, no!— you multiform, You that I loved, you wonderful, You who darkened and shone, You were many men in one;

But never this null This never-warm! Is this the sum of you? Is it all nought?

Cold, metal-cold? Are you all told Here, iron-wrought? Is this what's become of you?