The Rabbi: "Love, ye call it?—rather, Hate!
"What wouldst thou? Is it needful I discuss
Wherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottlescaked
With old strong wine's deposit, offers us
"Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked?
Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound—
Languors and yearnings: not a sense but ached
"Weighed on by fancied form and feature, sound
Of silver word and sight of sunny smile:
No beckoning of a flower-branch, no profound