Of all the Souls that stand create-
I have elected-One-
When Sense from Spirit-files away-
And Subterfuge-is done-
When that which is-and that which was-
And this brief Drama in the flesh-
Is shifted-like a Sand-
When Figures show their royal Front-
And Mists-are carved away,
Behold the Atom-I preferred-
To all the lists of Clay!