XXVI
WHY NOT IN CHORUS?

The chosen ones sing on
By the crib where God resides;
The silent ones are panting,
Crossing the threshold . . .

And what about? the ones
Just arriving in the village? –
Where the ear still rings with
The Innocents’ massacre! . . .

Sing on, you chosen ones,
By the crib where God resides;
My ear’s still smarting from
Pursuers’ horns . . .

Sing you, in chorus bound – –
And I? – corrupt the intonation
In triumphant supplication –

For I’ve seen blood . . .!