Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men, in foul
Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulæ.
At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I tried to tame
A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher came.
I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.
Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt
To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun
Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,
For he explained that heaven was gained more featly—wrenching Saint Jerome—
From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go home.