ST. FRANCIS AND THE WOLF
This wolf for many a day
Had scourged and trodden down
The folk of Agobio town;
Old was he, lean and gray.
Had scourged and trodden down
The folk of Agobio town;
Old was he, lean and gray.
Dragging a mildewed bone,
Down from his lair he came,
Saw in the sunset flame
Our father standing alone.
Down from his lair he came,
Saw in the sunset flame
Our father standing alone.
Dust on his threadbare gown,
Dust on his blessed feet,
Faint from long fast and heat,
His light of life died down.
Dust on his blessed feet,
Faint from long fast and heat,
His light of life died down.
This wolf laid bare his teeth,
And growling low there stood;
His lips were black with blood,
His eyes were fires of death.
And growling low there stood;
His lips were black with blood,
His eyes were fires of death.
So for a spring crouched he;
But the Saint raised his head—
"Peace, Brother Wolf," he said,
"God made both thee and me."
But the Saint raised his head—
"Peace, Brother Wolf," he said,
"God made both thee and me."
120
