Upon the hallowed ground of Galilee, O John,
Thy Master writeth, while the wolfish crowd
Bends lowering looks upon the woman bowed,
Cursing her lovely face, so tearful and so wan;
Still asks the deep heart of mankind, which sees
Her streaming eyes fixed on the brow divine,
"What was the import of that single line
Writ by the gracious Christ amid the Pharisees?"
Saying, "O to have seen upon the favored sod
Those jewels from the forefinger of God!
Go forth this morn in May, where, all unrolled,
The daisied meadow lies, signed o'er with gold;
In flowery text he writes his gospel as of old!"
