 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
A PARABLE.
There was a man who bore for many days
Pains, sore to bear, that would not let him rest;
Meanwhile, great fear of death upon him prest,
Till, lo! he dreamed and slept. And full of grace
The dream was: for a strange and holy place
Was open'd to him, and on God's own breast
He lay, with all his sins and fears confest,
Having Christ's saving kiss upon his face.
Pains, sore to bear, that would not let him rest;
Meanwhile, great fear of death upon him prest,
Till, lo! he dreamed and slept. And full of grace
The dream was: for a strange and holy place
Was open'd to him, and on God's own breast
He lay, with all his sins and fears confest,
Having Christ's saving kiss upon his face.
“And very sweet it is,” he said, “to know
That life at length is over, and grief done.”
Then fell the dream away from him, and lo!
He woke to find another day begun;
Yea, woke to bear more agony and dread,—
Death bending with gaunt face above his bed.
That life at length is over, and grief done.”
Then fell the dream away from him, and lo!
He woke to find another day begun;
Yea, woke to bear more agony and dread,—
Death bending with gaunt face above his bed.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |