 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
291
SELF-SACRIFICE.
I
When Christ let fall that sanguine showerAmid the garden dew
O say what amaranthine flower
In that red rain up grew?
If yet below, the blossom grow
Then earth is holy yet:
But if it bloom forgotten, woe
To those who dare forget!
II
No flower so precious, sweet, and loneExpands beneath the skies:
In Eden bowers it lurked unblown—
Its name? Self-sacrifice!
The very name we scarce can frame,
And yet that secret root
The monsters of the wild might tame,
And Heaven is in the fruit!
III
Alas! what murmur spreads around?‘The news thereof hath been:
But never yet the man was found
Whose eye that flower hath seen.’
Then nobles all! leave court and hall
And search the wide world o'er;
For whoso finds this Sancgreall
Stands crowned for evermore!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |