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Poem	Said I to Pain: "You would not dare Do ill to me." Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care Whom you may be? To clown and king alike I bring My meed of bane; Why should you shirk my chastening?" Said Pain. Said I to Grief: "No tears have I, Go on your way." Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by, While others pay? All men must know the way of woe, From saint to thief, And tears were meant to overflow," Said Grief. Said I to Death: "From ail and fret Grant me relief." Said Death: "I know you are beset By Pain and Grief. But my good will you must await Since human breath To suffering is consecrate," Said Death. Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief, Bleak Brother Pain, Bedevil me beyond belief, And Death's unfain . . ." Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three, Poor human clod! Have faith! Believe the One with Me," Said God.
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