Of life is spent, since corners only four
Hath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist
"In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore—
Little it profits here!) by strenuous tug
Of friends who eked out thus to full fourscore
"The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug!
What have we gained? Away the Bier may roll!
To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug,
"In with his body I may pitch the scroll
I hoped to glorify with, text and gloss,