And if they know not?
Then is she still herself,
Nor has complaint of desolation?
For she has need neither of lovers
Nor of a populace,
Nor to be adored nor hailed—
As if truth flesh were, or a tyranny.
She has no need but of herself,
That truth be truth, nor less:
Revealment has no need
But of identicality.
And never was truth less, except as man,
By furious dispute of oneness,
Made quarrelsome variety to seem
One’s littling into lesserness of one,
And lesserness a greatness,