Because his hand unsanctioned executed
A death-decree you had not yet pronounced.
The dead man’s widow, as he treads the threshold,
Counters him with her curse: within there sits
All in Jerusalem that’s old and grey.
But since he comes not sackclothed, and no ashes
Bestrew his head, you get a sag in the heart:
You think no more with punishment to greet him,
You think no more with threatenings to tame him!
You say him naught, he laughs you off and goes.