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II.—THE CROWN OF FLOWERS.
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207

II.—THE CROWN OF FLOWERS.

Suggested by a picture, at the French Gallery, of Christ's head after death.

“Never a true crown, but Thy crown of thorn.”
—Macdonald.

It is a cursed lie! that pallid head
Is not the wearer of the only crown
That the white hands of kingly God lay down;
All garlands are not streaked with bitter red.
Bring flowers for other limbs than those which bled
On Calvary near the narrow-minded town—
Bring roses meet for snowy not for brown
And toil-worn breasts—this man is amply dead!
As for the speech that heads this sonnet, I
Declare that 'tis a cursed barren lie!
The only true crown is the crown of flowers!
As for the faith that there is only one
Triumphant victor underneath the sun,
That may be England's faith—it is not ours.