OF ST. FRANCIS: HIS WRATH
"The painted insect in the grass,
The frog that croaks anigh,
The firefly and the butterfly
Will hate thee as they pass.
The frog that croaks anigh,
The firefly and the butterfly
Will hate thee as they pass.
"Even the cats and dogs," he said,
"And carrion birds of air,
On thy vile carcass will not fare:
A curse be on thy head."
"And carrion birds of air,
On thy vile carcass will not fare:
A curse be on thy head."
And even so it came to pass,
Before three days were done,
That lark was drowned in a tank of stone,
The peacock's looking-glass.
Before three days were done,
That lark was drowned in a tank of stone,
The peacock's looking-glass.
And there he lay in Heaven's eye,
Dead, and dishonoured too,
Till someone passing by him threw
Upon a dunghill nigh.
Dead, and dishonoured too,
Till someone passing by him threw
Upon a dunghill nigh.
Of all foul things in beast or bird,
Or in men's hearts that be.
This, the foul fiend of cruelty,
Our father most abhorred.
Or in men's hearts that be.
This, the foul fiend of cruelty,
Our father most abhorred.
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