While, living, through your streets we fare
And take your hatred: nothing worse
Have we, once dead and safe, to bear!
So we refresh our souls, fulfil
Our works, our daily tasks; and thus
Gather you grain—earth's harvest—still
The wheat for you, the straw for us.
"'What flouting in a face, what harm,
In just a lady borne from bier
By boys' heads, wings for leg and arm?'