THE EYE AND THE TRUTH
Up from the fret of the earth-world, through the Seven Circles of Flame,
With the seven holes in Its tunic for sign of the death-in-shame,
To the little gate of Valhalla the coward-spirit came.
Cold, It crouched in the man-strong wind that sweeps Valhalla’s floor;
Weak, It pawed and scratched on the wood; and howled, like a dog, at the Door
Which is shut to the souls who are sped in shame, for ever and evermore:
For It snuffed the Meat of the Banquet-boards where the Threefold Killers sit,
Where the Free Beer foams to the tankard-rim, and the Endless Smokes are lit....
And It saw the Nakéd Eye come out above the lintel-slit.
And now It quailed at Nakéd Eye which judges the naked dead;
And now It snarled at Nakéd Truth that broodeth overhead;
And now It looked to the earth below where the gun-flames flickered red.
It muttered words It had learned on earth, the words of a black-coat priest
Who had bade It pray to a pulpit god—but ever Eye’s Wrath increased;
And It knew that Its words were empty words, and It whined like a homeless beast:
Till, black above the lintel-slit, the Nakéd Eye went out;
Till, loud across the Killer-Feasts, It heard the Killer-Shout—
The three-fold song of them that slew, and died ... and had no doubt.