Small spirits traffic in the ruined name
And outnumber the stars above the sea;
Their poison spreads, yet those who would remain
Must grow beyond the reach of calumny.
The lesser swarm and nibble at the heel
Of any greatness that outstrips their kind;
But victory belongs to Truth alone,
Whose force outlasts the powers that have lied.
Beneath the assault the strong grow yet more sure,
The weak grow weaker in their evil net;
In the end, Truth holds, and the pure endure
To watch the fabric of deceit upset.
What started as a game of wicked fun
Turns round at length and is itself undone.
October 22, 2026
