Poem of the Beetles I

When the Being of glory was in retreat,
And wicked men in pursuit of Him,
What said the groveller of blindness
To the beetle and the butterfly ?

' Saw ye passing to-day or yestreen,
The Son of my love — the Son of God ? '
' We saw, we saw,' said the black beetle,
' The Son of freedom pass yesterday.'

' Wrong ! wrong ! wrong art thou,'
Said the sacred beetle earthy ;
' A big year it was yestreen
Since the Son of God passed.'