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 Was never yet on earth or in the ocean, Or anywhere else than in my sense of him. Had all I made of him been tangible, The Lord must have invented long ago Some private and unspeakable new monster Equipped for such a thing's extermination; Whereon the monster, seeing no other monster Worth biting, would have died with his work done. There's a humiliation in it now, As there was then, and worse than there was then; For then there was the boy to shoulder it Without the sickening weight of added years Galling him to the grave. Beware of hate That has no other boundary than the grave Made for it, or for ourselves. Beware, I say; And I'm a sorry one, I fear, to say it, Though for the moment we may let that go.