Page:Ferishtah's fancies - Browning (1884).djvu/130

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FERISHTAH'S FANCIES.
Snow, feather-thick, is falling while I feast?What if the cruel winter force his wayHere also?' Son, the wise reply were this:When cold from over-mounts spikes through and throughBlood, bone and marrow of Ferishtah,―then,Time to look out for shelter—time, at least,To wring the hands and cry 'no shelter serves!'Shelter, of some sort, no experienced chillWarrants that I despair to find."
"No less,Doctors have differed here; thou say'st thy say;Another man's experience masters thine,Flat controverted by the sourly-Sage,
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