One whom that very night I made my slave.
Off to your anvil, ass!”
But Hermes calmed
Their quarrel, lifting his either hand in grace.
“Without our father’s thunder we are fools
And children. Who decides when lesser gods,
When angels disagree? Authority absent,
Silence—a silver silence—that is best.”
And like a song they heard it, and they wondered,
Measuring its notes. Until Apollo,