Herman Melville

“ Yes, crowned with thorns, still loved the flowers?
Poor gardeners here that turned the sod
Friends were they to the Son of God? ⁠30
And shared He e'en their humble lot?
The sisters here in pastoral plot
Green to the door--did they yield rest,
And bathe the feet, and spread the board
For Him, their own and brother's guest, ⁠35
The kindly Christ, even man's fraternal Lord?
But see: how with a wandering hand,
In absent-mindedness afloat,
And dreaming of his fairy-land,
Nehemiah smooths the ass's coat. ”