Might dwell too long upon
Our swinging greys and many-coloured green.
So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.
Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every waning king.
And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.
My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.
I grew in grace with man—I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan
I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith began.
Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's schemes to enhance
His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's tolerance.