"Qui deridetur ab amico suo sicut ego."—JOB In the seventies I was bearing in my breast, Penned tight, Certain starry thoughts that threw a magic light On the worktimes and the soundless hours of rest In the seventies; aye, I bore them in my breast Penned tight. In the seventies when my neighbours—even my friend - Saw me pa**, Heads were shaken, and I heard the words, "Alas, For his onward years and name unless he mend!" In the seventies, when my neighbours and my friend Saw me pa**. In the seventies those who met me did not know Of the vision That immuned me from the chillings of mis-prision And the damps that choked my goings to and fro In the seventies; yea, those nodders did not know Of the vision. In the seventies nought could darken or destroy it, Locked in me, Though as delicate as lamp-worm's lucency; Neither mist nor murk could weaken or alloy it In the seventies!—could not darken or destroy it, Locked in me.