HE beautiful dancing-women wove their maze,
⁠With many a swift lascivious leer and lure
For the hot theatre, whose myriad gaze
⁠Burned on their shamelessness with eyes impure.

Then one that watched unseen among them—dread,
Mystical, ineffable of presence—said,
"Patience! And leave me these poor wanton ones:
Soon they shall lie as meek and cold as nuns;
And you that hire them here to tempt your lust
Shall be as all the saints are, in the dust."