V

"'His wine that should glorify (saith He) the cup
That a man beholding (not tasting) might say
"Pour out life at a draught, drain it dry, drink it up,
Give this one thing, and huddle the rest away--
Save the bitch, and be hanged to the pup!"


VI

"'Let it rot then!' which saying, he leaves it--we'll guess,
Feels (if the sap move at all) thus much--
Yearns, and would blossom, would quicken no less,
Bud at an eye's glance, flower at a touch--
'Die, perhaps, would you not, for her?'--'Yes!'


VII

"Note the hitch there! That's piteous--so much being done,
(He'll think some day, your lover) so little to do!
Such infinite days to wear out, once begun!
Since the hand its glove holds, and the footsole its shoe--
Overhead too there's always the sun!"


VIII

Oh, no doubt they had said so, your friends--been profuse