 | The works of Francis Thompson |  |
171
THE PASSION OF MARY
VERSES IN PASSION-TIDE
O Lady Mary, thy bright crown
Is no mere crown of majesty;
For with the reflex of His own
Resplendent thorns Christ circled thee.
Is no mere crown of majesty;
For with the reflex of His own
Resplendent thorns Christ circled thee.
The red rose of this Passion-tide
Doth take a deeper hue from thee,
In the five wounds of Jesus dyed,
And in thy bleeding thoughts, Mary!
Doth take a deeper hue from thee,
In the five wounds of Jesus dyed,
And in thy bleeding thoughts, Mary!
The soldier struck a triple stroke,
That smote thy Jesus on the tree:
He broke the Heart of Hearts, and broke
The Saint's and Mother's hearts in thee.
That smote thy Jesus on the tree:
He broke the Heart of Hearts, and broke
The Saint's and Mother's hearts in thee.
Thy Son went up the angels' ways,
His passion ended; but, ah me!
Thou found'st the road of further days
A longer way of Calvary:
His passion ended; but, ah me!
Thou found'st the road of further days
A longer way of Calvary:
On the hard cross of hope deferred
Thou hung'st in loving agony,
Until the mortal-dreaded word
Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee.
Thou hung'st in loving agony,
Until the mortal-dreaded word
Which chills our mirth, spake mirth to thee.
The angel Death from this cold tomb
Of life did roll the stone away;
And He thou barest in thy womb
Caught thee at last into the day,
Before the living throne of Whom
The Lights of Heaven burning pray.
Of life did roll the stone away;
And He thou barest in thy womb
Caught thee at last into the day,
Before the living throne of Whom
The Lights of Heaven burning pray.
172
L'ENVOY
O thou who dwellest in the day!
Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:
Darkness is ever round my way
With little space for sunbeam-room.
Behold, I pace amidst the gloom:
Darkness is ever round my way
With little space for sunbeam-room.
Yet Christian sadness is divine
Even as thy patient sadness was:
The salt tears in our life's dark wine
Fell in it from the saving cross.
Even as thy patient sadness was:
The salt tears in our life's dark wine
Fell in it from the saving cross.
Bitter the bread of our repast;
Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven:
Our sorrow is the shadow cast
Around it by the light of Heaven.
Yet doth a sweet the bitter leaven:
Our sorrow is the shadow cast
Around it by the light of Heaven.
O light in Light, shine down from Heaven!
| The works of Francis Thompson | |