Of crimson from the sword that pierced his side.
Since then in every crisis I have known,
Whether in busy town or desert lone,
Angel or demon, whichsoe’er it be,
That sable apparition comes to me.
I never hear his voice, he stands apart,
Yet like a brother twines about my heart.
Now, all my idols burned in civil strife,
Willing to love or re-create my life,
My feet, self-exiled from their natal strand,