37
238
O Christ! This is mastering me!
In at the conquer'd doors they crowd. I am possess'd.
239
I embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering;
See myself in prison shaped like another man,
And feel the dull unintermitted pain.
240
For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch;
It is I let out in the morning, and barr'd at night.
241
Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail, but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side;
(I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one, with sweat on my twitching lips.)
242
Not a youngster is taken for larceny, but I go up too, and am tried and sentenced.
243
Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp, but I also lie at the last gasp;
My face is ash-color'd—my sinews gnarl—away from me people retreat.
244
Askers embody themselves in me, and I am embodied in them;
I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.
