So your conscience pricks you, does it?
Because on a joyous New Year's Eve,
An eve that will not be forgotten,
You looked into my eyes, and talked
Into my mind, and smiled into my heart,
And found there what I found in you,
Returning freely warmth for warmth;
You sensed new beauty being born
And felt that sparkling interchange
Of mind and spirit that presages
Complete and precious understanding—
Because of this, your wretched conscience,
Ye gods—your conscience—pricks! Alas!
Why do not you, the inner, truer you,
Prick the bloated bubble of your conscience?
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