“Shaped at the top like this.” He lifted up

An old round-bellied wine-cup.

At the word

He wellnigh lost his guests. They leapt to their feet.

They wished to pay their quittance and press on

To see those hills. But, while they raved, the fowl

Was laid before them, luscious, fragrant, brown.

He pointed, speechless, to the gathering dusk,

And poured their wine, and conquered.

“The Bon Dieu