Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/33

 A fog of doubt that a small constant fire

Would have defeated had invisibly

And imperceptibly crept into it,

And made the miracle in it that was yours

A nameless toy for the first imbecile

To flout who found it—wherefore he’ll not find it.

Presently Number One and Number Two

Will be beyond all finding. Number Three

Will not be farther from his eyes tomorrow;

And they’ll all be as safe together then

As we should be if we had not been born.

The circle fills itself; and there you are

Inside it, where you can’t crawl out of it.

It holds you like a rat in a round well,

Where he has only time and room to swim

In a ring until he disappears and drowns,

If it be true that rats abandon ships