“How,” the man thought to himself, “how
Did I ever reach this lowest point in my life?
And now it seems I have no strength to stop.
The end is in sight, this path’s ignoble ruin.
Must I observe my final steps to death?”

He did not reach his present state at once,
But inch by imperceptible inch was moved
Away from ultimate good, by a velvet voice,
His conscience squelched, his eternal soul convinced
That one small step made no real difference.