'Requiem eternam dona ei, Domine';
Silently, sorrowfully I bent down my head,
For I had hated him -- a poor creature of clay:
And all my envious, bitter cruel thoughts that came
Out of the past and stood by the bier whereon he lay
Pointed their long, lean fingers through the gloom...
   O Name,
Ineffable, proud Name to whom the cries ascend
From lost, angelical orders, seraph flame to flame
For this end have I hated him -- for this poor end?