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156
AN OLD STORY.
“He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small.”
All things both great and small.”
About the noonday's glare and heat,
In a gaudy Eastern street
The merchants vended their merchandise,
And the buyers bought: there was busy hum
Of the human bees in the honeycomb;
The air was heavy with droning flies.
In a gaudy Eastern street
The merchants vended their merchandise,
And the buyers bought: there was busy hum
Of the human bees in the honeycomb;
The air was heavy with droning flies.
All manner of garbage and decay
Defiled the public way;
Rank breaths rose up from the festering heap.
But a pitiful dead dog lying there,
Bruised and broken, with stainèd hair,
Never stirred in his welcome sleep.
Defiled the public way;
Rank breaths rose up from the festering heap.
But a pitiful dead dog lying there,
Bruised and broken, with stainèd hair,
Never stirred in his welcome sleep.
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Yesterday, if a stone were thrown,
He had shivered and slunk on;
Hunted to death, he was glad to die,
But longed for a dark place cool and sweet,
Far from the eyes in the cruel street,
Where none might mock at his agony.
He had shivered and slunk on;
Hunted to death, he was glad to die,
But longed for a dark place cool and sweet,
Far from the eyes in the cruel street,
Where none might mock at his agony.
And now he fears not anything,
Come Cæsar or come King.
To-day he giveth no man the way;
Even the children, his enemies,
Or the carrion-birds, or the ravening flies,
Trouble him not in his dreams to-day.
Come Cæsar or come King.
To-day he giveth no man the way;
Even the children, his enemies,
Or the carrion-birds, or the ravening flies,
Trouble him not in his dreams to-day.
And some went up, and some went down:
A priest in his sacred gown;
And a Pharisee, clad in the hodden-grey
For his fasting-time, went scornful-eyed,
With robe withdrawn, to the windward side—
He was going up to the Temple to pray.
A priest in his sacred gown;
And a Pharisee, clad in the hodden-grey
For his fasting-time, went scornful-eyed,
With robe withdrawn, to the windward side—
He was going up to the Temple to pray.
The priest smiled under his beard, yet cast
An insult as he passed;
And one threw mud on the eyes a-stare.
“See his slit ears,” another said;
“The thief who gorged on the children's bread
Is food himself for things of the air.”
An insult as he passed;
And one threw mud on the eyes a-stare.
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“The thief who gorged on the children's bread
Is food himself for things of the air.”
But who is this that cometh now?
A King with a radiant brow,
Whom the people hail as they loved Him much.
And some fell down as He passed through them,
With reverent lips to His garment's hem,
And mothers held their babes for His touch.
A King with a radiant brow,
Whom the people hail as they loved Him much.
And some fell down as He passed through them,
With reverent lips to His garment's hem,
And mothers held their babes for His touch.
There He paused in the market-place,
With a shade on His lovely face;
Knelt Him down by the dead dog's side;
With a shrinking gesture of pity and pain,
Saw the wounds with the piteous stain,
And the channelled cheeks where the tears had dried;
With a shade on His lovely face;
Knelt Him down by the dead dog's side;
With a shrinking gesture of pity and pain,
Saw the wounds with the piteous stain,
And the channelled cheeks where the tears had dried;
And the dusty paws touched tenderly
With a pity lovely to see;
And closed the lids on the eyes beneath.
As the white teeth gleamed in the open mouth,
“No pearl,” said He, “from seas of the south
Is half so white as his pearly teeth.”
With a pity lovely to see;
And closed the lids on the eyes beneath.
As the white teeth gleamed in the open mouth,
“No pearl,” said He, “from seas of the south
Is half so white as his pearly teeth.”
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And one who heard asked curiously
What manner of man was He.
And a woman answered the questioner,
“It is the Jesus of Nazareth
Who called our Lazarus up from death,
And spareth ruth for a thieving cur!”
What manner of man was He.
And a woman answered the questioner,
“It is the Jesus of Nazareth
Who called our Lazarus up from death,
And spareth ruth for a thieving cur!”
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