Then why,why sow his seed where it will surely spoil? A father’s matter and a mother’s mud:deep roots decaying in unhallowed soil! The shootling sprang, the leaves were thin and ill,the blighted blossoms chilled and fell away. The stem put forth a single withered flower,and of my fruit—who can deny but sayits scent is bitter and its taste is sour? A gardener passed byand said “Whom do you seek?”The world aroundturned over on its old decaying crustand he—since He was previous—drew nighand caught me as I fell into the dust.