Ye fear me? Ye fear the taut-strung bow? Ye fear a man might set his arrow to the bow? 33 I am naught but a word-maker. What matter words? What matter I? 34 Ah, my friends, Whither has flown all that is called "good"? Whither all good people? Whither the innocence of all these falsehoods? I call all good, Leaves and grass, happiness, blessing, and rain. 35 Not through his sins and greatest follies. Through his perfection I suffered, As I suffered most from men.45 36 "Man is evil."
Table of Contents
EDITORIAL NOTE TO POETRY
184