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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
LOVE AND RESURRECTION.
I.
When a man dies and wakes in Paradise,
If Paradise there be, — for what man knows?—
He hardly feels, at first, how all his woes
Of life are over; but, with awe-struck eyes,
Looks where the towers and heights of heaven rise;
And as he looks, so great the glory grows,
That eyes, as yet not strong enough, must close,
While he in speechless expectation lies.
If Paradise there be, — for what man knows?—
He hardly feels, at first, how all his woes
Of life are over; but, with awe-struck eyes,
Looks where the towers and heights of heaven rise;
And as he looks, so great the glory grows,
That eyes, as yet not strong enough, must close,
While he in speechless expectation lies.
But through the golden gate he hears the song
The angels ever sing for joy of heart,
Yet dares not mix those shining forms among;
Till, lo! Christ, stepping from the circling throng,
Says to him, “Friend, why standest thou apart?
Enter, for one of these thou surely art!”
The angels ever sing for joy of heart,
Yet dares not mix those shining forms among;
Till, lo! Christ, stepping from the circling throng,
Says to him, “Friend, why standest thou apart?
Enter, for one of these thou surely art!”
II.
So, when the joy for which I long had prayed,
Was granted, and Love's gates stood open wide,
With shining angels thronging either side,
I held a little back, with feet afraid
To dare the shining land before me spread;
Though I had seen the faces glorified,
Heard Love's own song of joy, felt all the pride
To know his very hands had crowned my head.
Was granted, and Love's gates stood open wide,
With shining angels thronging either side,
I held a little back, with feet afraid
To dare the shining land before me spread;
Though I had seen the faces glorified,
Heard Love's own song of joy, felt all the pride
To know his very hands had crowned my head.
While thus I stood, my lady came, and said,
“Come, now, and worship at Love's inmost shrine;”
She spake with a compulsion so divine
That straightway I arose, and followèd.
Now Love's continuous lights about us shine,
And by our voices is Love's anthem led.
“Come, now, and worship at Love's inmost shrine;”
She spake with a compulsion so divine
That straightway I arose, and followèd.
Now Love's continuous lights about us shine,
And by our voices is Love's anthem led.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |