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[Page 70]

(47)
Is it wrong if you feel more sorry for the gentle Mary with her grief, than for the brave and patient Jesus with his everlasting peace?
Maybe not, for the Mary is ever with us with her loss; while the mighty Jesus is afar off and as distant and as doubtful as the giants of our childhood.
Come down from the little attic
Descend the splintered stairs
Pass through the tangled wreckage of the shop below.
Leap across the break in its vaulted cellar, which gapes like a tomb
And enter the cobbled street once more

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