“A prophet shall he be all men excelling
To this folk: nevermore shall fail his race,”
But they, “Of him have we heard no man telling,
Nor seen him”—yet the babe was born five days!
But in a pathless reed-brake, oversprayed
With gold and purple splendours was he lying,
Which pansy-petals on his soft flesh rayed.
“So shall he,” spake his mother prophesying,
“Bear this name that through all time shall not fade.”