In Christ's crown, one more thorn we rue!
In Mary's bosom, one more sword!
No, boy, you must not pelt a Jew!
O Lord, how long? How long, O Lord?"
EPILOGUE
μεστοι . . .
οἱ δ' ἀμφορῆς οἴνου μέλανος ἀνθοσμίου
"The poets pour us wine—"
Said the dearest poet I ever knew,
Dearest and greatest and best to me.