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327 Allons! out of the dark confinement! It is useless to protest —I know all, and expose it.

Behold, through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of
 * people,

Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those
 * washed and trimmed faces,

Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, no lover, so trusted
 * as to hear the confession,

Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking
 * and hiding it goes, open and above board it
 * goes,

Formless and wordless through the streets of the
 * cities, polite and bland in the parlors,

In the cars of rail-roads, in steam-boats, in the
 * public assembly,

Home to the houses of men and women, among their
 * families, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere.

Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright,
 * death under the breast-bones, hell under the
 * skull-bones.

Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons
 * and artificial flowers,

Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable
 * of itself,

Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.

Allons! Through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.