In a bleak land and desolate,
Beyond the earth somewhere,
Went wandering through death's dark gate
A soul into the air.

And still, as on and on it fled,
A wild, waste region through,
Behind there fell the steady tread
Of one that did pursue.

At last he paused, and looked aback;
And then he was aware
A hideous wretch stood in his track,
Deformed, and cowering there.

" And who art thou, " he shrieked in fright,
" That dost my steps pursue?
Go, hide thy shapeless shape from sight,
Nor thus pollute my view! "

The foul form answered him: " Alway
Along thy path I flee.
I'm thine own actions. Night and day
Still must I follow thee! "