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TRUTH: There is no sin, save to deny Nature. Man maketh sin, and the strength of Sin is the law.

XII. POET: Like the dancing of images in a mirage, I see the idolaters crowding into the temple of the

Vulture, Which is builded by the hands of the dying. They are fat and comfortable, well-dressed and insolent. The mediocre multitude follow them like little dogs,

wagging sycophantic tails, They circle about the pedestal of the God of Gold, crying : "How wicked are the men who would alter the Things

that Are ; "We are comfortable.

"To the jail with the agitators ; socialists ; anarchists, "All those who on the street-corner stir up discontent. "By the Law we sit upon the backs of the people. "They stink in their poverty, "But we smell sweet unto our own nostrils. "Why should the little children filter the skyey gold

through their fingers? "It has never been so."

TRUTH: Civilization ! Moloch insatiable !

POET: The worshipers bow down to the bellied God, saying : "Oh, Golden God, thy name is Success. "We adore thee ; we worship thee. "Only gold is beautiful in thy sight. "Thou takest the blood of the workers. "Upon thine altar we have stretched Beauty, "A young girl, naked, and have stabbed her

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