Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat

Sown once for food but trodden into clay? Or golden coins squandered and still to pay?

Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet? Or such spilt water as in dreams must cheat The undying throats of hell, athirst alway? I do not see them here; but after death God knows I know the faces I shall see, 10 Each one a murdered self, with low last breath.

'I am thyself,- what hast thou done to me?'

'And I and I-thyself,' (lo! each one saith)

'And thou thyself to all eternity!'