Ancient History

Adam, a brown old vulture in the rain,   

Shivered below his wind-whipped olive-trees;   

Huddling sharp chin on scarred and scraggy knees,   

He moaned and mumbled to his darkening brain;   

‘He was the grandest of them all—was Cain!   

‘A lion laired in the hills, that none could tire;   

‘Swift as a stag; a stallion of the plain,

‘Hungry and fierce with deeds of huge desire.’

Grimly he thought of Abel, soft and fair—

A lover with disaster in his face,

And scarlet blossom twisted in bright hair.   

‘Afraid to fight; was murder more disgrace? ...

‘God always hated Cain’ ... He bowed his head—

The gaunt wild man whose lovely sons were dead.