A jealousy is tearing me up inside
Its hissing roaring flames hide carefully
Until cindered shell am I upon the tide
Green boiled o'er to blackest black I be

Thence I be an automaton and think nought
Saying much to cover devilish sign
While with cunning and resourcefulness I wrought
No gain apart from grief in my design

A hand may I cause to quiver or be wrung
A face may crumble, pyramid to dust
Name may be sullied and happy mind undone
Tear fall eye to cheek with remembered lust

But revenging hand or face, name, mind or tear
Gives a cindered hollow shell but hollow cheer.