Adam, a brown old vulture in the rain, Shivered below his wind-whipped olive-trees; Huddling sharp chin on scarred and scraggy knees, He moaned and mumbled to his darkening brain; `He was the grandest of them all was Cain! `A lion laired in the hills, that none could tire: `Swift as a stag: a stallion of the plain, `Hungry and fierce with deeds of huge desire.? Grimly he thought of Abel, soft and fair A lover with disaster in his face, And scarlet blossom twisted in bright hair. `Afraid to fight; was murder more disgrace?? `God always hated Cain? He bowed his head The gaunt wild man whose lovely sons were dead.