Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/84

 Had left him and abandoned him again

To life. The fire of personality,

Still glowing within him, drew mysteriously

From those assisting at his resurrection

A friendly patience, and a sort of wonder

That wore a laughing kindness. With a lesion

Like his there would be no more golden fire

Brought vainly by perennial messengers

For one that would no longer recognize them,

Or know that they had come. There were somewhere

Disfigured outlines of a glory spoiled

That hovered unrevealed and unremembered,

But they were like to those of blinding jewels

Wrought beyond earth to value beyond earth,

To be defaced and hammered valueless

By a sick idiot, and insanely sunk