Rudyard Kipling , Verses 1889-1896, Londres, Doubleday, 1919.
The Devil he blew upon his nail, and the lirrle devils ran,
And he said : « Go husk this whimpering thief that comes in the guise of a man:
Winnow him out ‘twixt star and star, and sieve his proper worth :
There’s sore decline in Adam’s line if this be spawn of earth. »
Empusa’s crew, so naked-new the may not face the fire,
But weep that they bin too small to sin to the height to their desire.
Over the coal they chased the Soul, and racked it all abroad,
As children rifle a caddis-case or the raven’s foolish hoard.
And back they came with the tattered Thing, as children after play.
And they said : « The soul that he got from God he has bartered clean away.
We have threshed a stook of print and book, and winnowed a chattering wind.