Xcvi

These, you are to understand, Were the mere hard and sharp distinctions. On each hand, I soon became aware, flocked the infinitude Of passions, loves and hates, man pampers till his mood Becomes himself, the whole sole face we name him by, Nor want denotement else, if age or youth supply The rest of him: old, young,--classed creature: in the main A love, a hate, a hope, a fear, each soul astrain Some one way through the flesh--the face, an evidence O' the soul at work inside; and, all the more intense, So much the more grotesque.