 | Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset |  |
62
THREE CROSSES
There were three crosses on the hill,
Three shadows downward thrown;
O Mary Mother, heard you not
The other mothers' moan?
Three shadows downward thrown;
O Mary Mother, heard you not
The other mothers' moan?
Your Son—he was the Holy One
Whom angels comforted;
They touched his lips with heavenly wine
In those dark hours of dread!
Whom angels comforted;
They touched his lips with heavenly wine
In those dark hours of dread!
For him all nature mourned; the sun
Veiled its resplendent face;
Darkness and tumult for his sake
Filled all the awful space.
Veiled its resplendent face;
Darkness and tumult for his sake
Filled all the awful space.
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And you—the sword that pierced your heart
Grave prophets had foretold;
You saw the crown above the cross,
Clear shining as of old!
Grave prophets had foretold;
You saw the crown above the cross,
Clear shining as of old!
O Mary Mother, sitting now
Enthroned beside your Son,
You knew even then the glorious end
For which the deed was done!
Enthroned beside your Son,
You knew even then the glorious end
For which the deed was done!
You saw the ages bending low
In homage at his feet;
You heard the songs of triumph,
And the music piercing sweet.
In homage at his feet;
You heard the songs of triumph,
And the music piercing sweet.
Three crosses on dark Calvary's hill,
Three awful shadows thrown;
Three mothers, faint with anguish sore,
Making to God their moan.
Three awful shadows thrown;
Three mothers, faint with anguish sore,
Making to God their moan.
But they, those other mothers, who
Bent down to comfort them?
They cowered afar; they had not dared
To touch your garment's hem.
Bent down to comfort them?
They cowered afar; they had not dared
To touch your garment's hem.
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Even if in mockery, your Son
Was crowned and hailed as king;
While theirs—disgraced, dishonored they,
Past all imagining!
Was crowned and hailed as king;
While theirs—disgraced, dishonored they,
Past all imagining!
They loved like you; their sons had lain
Like yours in sinless rest,
Cradled to slumber, soft and deep,
On each fond, faithful breast.
Like yours in sinless rest,
Cradled to slumber, soft and deep,
On each fond, faithful breast.
Yet now the terror and the shame,
The agony untold,
The deathless mother-love, unquenched
By horrors manifold!
The agony untold,
The deathless mother-love, unquenched
By horrors manifold!
Three crosses on the dreadful hill,
Three shadows downward thrown;
Mother of Sorrows, thou hast borne
Not one sharp pang alone!
Three shadows downward thrown;
Mother of Sorrows, thou hast borne
Not one sharp pang alone!
| Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset | |