Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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EASTER EVE. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
EASTER EVE.
It was Easter eve in a late late year
When the birds had gone to bed,
And the lily dropt a glorious tear
But the white rose it turned red;
On the pansy fell a sudden fear,
And the thorn forgot the spite
That had armed it with a cruel spear,
And the red rose it turned white.
When the birds had gone to bed,
And the lily dropt a glorious tear
But the white rose it turned red;
On the pansy fell a sudden fear,
And the thorn forgot the spite
That had armed it with a cruel spear,
And the red rose it turned white.
Lo, the Master in His beauty came
With His risen meed of might,
And the flowers before Him flashed like flame
And the grass leapt into light;
For His Presence turned the wild thing tame,
And the trees around Him felt
A rapture that was akin to shame,
And the daisies to Him knelt.
With His risen meed of might,
And the flowers before Him flashed like flame
And the grass leapt into light;
For His Presence turned the wild thing tame,
And the trees around Him felt
A rapture that was akin to shame,
And the daisies to Him knelt.
O the green leaves blossomed by Him blest
And their fragrant life gave up,
And the lichen laughed in its shadowed rest
And upraised its crimson cup;
While the clover with its bleeding breast
Laid bare the honeyed heart,
And the creatures closer to Him prest
For they all in Him had part.
And their fragrant life gave up,
And the lichen laughed in its shadowed rest
And upraised its crimson cup;
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Laid bare the honeyed heart,
And the creatures closer to Him prest
For they all in Him had part.
Then the Master plucked of the fairest flowers,
And upon His bosom laid
The tansy drank of His wondrous powers,
Till it blushed as if half afraid;
As He sought the abyss of blasted bowers
Where the lost in anguish lie,
And His roses fell like refreshing showers
On the death that cannot die.
And upon His bosom laid
The tansy drank of His wondrous powers,
Till it blushed as if half afraid;
As He sought the abyss of blasted bowers
Where the lost in anguish lie,
And His roses fell like refreshing showers
On the death that cannot die.
But the roses' thorns were about His head,
And the lily in His hand
Like a sacred cross of glory spread,
That relaxed each burning band;
And the damned looked up at His loving tread
Which a rainbow round it cast,
And remembered not that they were dead
For a moment, as He past.
And the lily in His hand
Like a sacred cross of glory spread,
That relaxed each burning band;
And the damned looked up at His loving tread
Which a rainbow round it cast,
And remembered not that they were dead
For a moment, as He past.
Ah, the red flames licked His holy feet
As they moved in mercy on,
And His pathway like a golden street
In the heavenly city shone;
And the lurid shroud like a bridal sheet
Over tortured beings fell,
And the pains for a moment then were sweet
In the cursed heart of Hell.
As they moved in mercy on,
And His pathway like a golden street
In the heavenly city shone;
And the lurid shroud like a bridal sheet
Over tortured beings fell,
And the pains for a moment then were sweet
In the cursed heart of Hell.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |