(when he was trying to run several dynamos in parallel

While trees and grass and men are wrapped in sleep.

Angels come down, with Christmas in their hearts,

Gentle, whimsical, laughing, heaven-sent;

And, for a day, fair Peace have given me

In this, the City of my Discontent!

Think not that incense-smoke has had its day.

My friends, the incense-time has but begun.

Creed upon creed, cult upon cult shall bloom,