Gnarled, crippled, blackened little stems askance,
On long hills to the South.
Great green and golden hands of leaves ere long
Shall proffer clusters in that vineyard wide.
And oh! his might, his sweet, his wine, his song,
His stature, since he died!
161. Christ in the Universe
With this ambiguous earth
His dealings have been told us. These abide:
The signal to a maid, the human birth,