THE TENTH DAY 
 
“ O God !  I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count 
myself king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad 
dreams.” 
Hamlet. 
 
The mere result of all this was a dream. 
The day passed damned, void of my love’s dear light, 
And stole acursed to the endless night, 
Forgotten (as I trust) by God :  no beam 
Of memory lighting it down Time’s dark stream. 
I dreamt :  my shrine was broken and my might 
Defiled, and all my Gods abased, in sight 
Of all blind Heaven exenterate and extreme. 
 
The foulest traitor of all womankind 
I ever knew, became my friend* :  unclean 
Sexual abominations floated through, 
More foul because a golden cord did wind 
Unspotted through that revel epicene, 
The pure faith of one woman that was true. 
*  This circumstance was later fulfilled :  I having judged 
her actions on insufficient evidence. 
 
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