 | Christ's Company and Other Poems |  |
36
St. Peter.
Thou brightness of the everlasting light,
Unspotted mirror of the power divine,
Wisdom and Word, thou Son of God,
My heart is broken like a clod,
My tears are falling on the sod,
Whereas through this long period,
Says sorrow,
Unspotted mirror of the power divine,
Wisdom and Word, thou Son of God,
My heart is broken like a clod,
My tears are falling on the sod,
Whereas through this long period,
Says sorrow,
They all forsook Thee, and alike we fled;
Ah, how am I so much behind them all?
Thy Master, ah, thy thrice denied,
Even now they shall have crucified;
Wherefore this sobbing may divide
The weight thou feelest in heart and side,
Says sorrow.
Ah, how am I so much behind them all?
Thy Master, ah, thy thrice denied,
Even now they shall have crucified;
Wherefore this sobbing may divide
The weight thou feelest in heart and side,
Says sorrow.
John saith that they who love do fear the most;
In truth, that very love makes faint and weak;
The truest sometimes fail the most;
He left Thee in that traitor host,
When torches frayed the olive coast,
The olives witnessing, “Thou know'st,”
In darkness.
In truth, that very love makes faint and weak;
The truest sometimes fail the most;
He left Thee in that traitor host,
When torches frayed the olive coast,
The olives witnessing, “Thou know'st,”
In darkness.
37
Saith Philip, that the mortal body weighs
The spirit with much trouble to the earth;
The senses flatter and perplex,
And lust the understanding wrecks,
This œnomel the false flower decks,
Whose sweets rise up through waxen necks
In darkness.
The spirit with much trouble to the earth;
The senses flatter and perplex,
And lust the understanding wrecks,
This œnomel the false flower decks,
Whose sweets rise up through waxen necks
In darkness.
Lazarus says he saw a hand stretch forth
From end to end of heaven instantly;
And holy beams were working out
Great scrolls that lightened all about,
The mighty sky, which seemed, in doubt,
To darken inwards, but without
To glory.
From end to end of heaven instantly;
And holy beams were working out
Great scrolls that lightened all about,
The mighty sky, which seemed, in doubt,
To darken inwards, but without
To glory.
And on these beams a glory suddenly
Rose in the heaven of heavens immeasured height,
Which brightened them as if upon
Some plain of dædal flowers, which spun
Darkly within the wind, the sun
Had paled, and then at once begun
To glory.
Rose in the heaven of heavens immeasured height,
Which brightened them as if upon
Some plain of dædal flowers, which spun
Darkly within the wind, the sun
Had paled, and then at once begun
To glory.
This comforts me the most, O Master great,
Oh, worker ever, as it may be seen,
In anguish, as Thou dost fulfil
Composedly the mighty will,
Which pierceth as a mighty drill
The fashions of the ages, till
Through ages
Oh, worker ever, as it may be seen,
In anguish, as Thou dost fulfil
Composedly the mighty will,
Which pierceth as a mighty drill
The fashions of the ages, till
Through ages
38
The one design connects: ah, still the sod
Bids me drain out my tears and wash it through;
O Lord, it bids mine eyes renew
Their sorrow, for thine eyes so true,
As the sad rain might mesh the hue
Of flowers tenderer than grew
Through ages.
Bids me drain out my tears and wash it through;
O Lord, it bids mine eyes renew
Their sorrow, for thine eyes so true,
As the sad rain might mesh the hue
Of flowers tenderer than grew
Through ages.
Sadly the grassy sod sobs to the leaves;
Come down to me, and I will bury you;
In my deep bosom ye shall lie;
Too long ye wave and flag on high;
The dews drop softly from the sky
Like syllables, “weep, weep, and die;”
The leaves fall.
Come down to me, and I will bury you;
In my deep bosom ye shall lie;
Too long ye wave and flag on high;
The dews drop softly from the sky
Like syllables, “weep, weep, and die;”
The leaves fall.
The little trefoils twinkle their sweet eyes;
The little banks of grass together thrust
With shrivelled points, will never tear you,
On their small poignards they shall bear you,
Frittered like flame their points shall spare you,
The binding weed shall gently snare you
(The leaves fall)
The little banks of grass together thrust
With shrivelled points, will never tear you,
On their small poignards they shall bear you,
Frittered like flame their points shall spare you,
The binding weed shall gently snare you
(The leaves fall)
Down to my fresh moss heart, where ye shall watch
Your scarlet purple mother branches gleam;
While worm and emmet work anon,
To trace in each its skeleton,
And all heaven's curdling clouds roll on
O'er fruits which, lurid, sanguine, dun,
(The leaves fall,)
Your scarlet purple mother branches gleam;
While worm and emmet work anon,
To trace in each its skeleton,
And all heaven's curdling clouds roll on
O'er fruits which, lurid, sanguine, dun,
(The leaves fall,)
39
Droop lower and lower towards me: ah, come down,
Ye stay and flutter all too long! the fig
Swoops in large circles, and where frets
The anxious vine, she sadly sets
The ashy spider with his nets
To do her watching while she lets
The leaves fall.
Ye stay and flutter all too long! the fig
Swoops in large circles, and where frets
The anxious vine, she sadly sets
The ashy spider with his nets
To do her watching while she lets
The leaves fall.
The hoary nightshade drops her berries here,
The tragacanth with purple eyelids weeps,
The ivy-thorn his leaves depends
To where the comfort woodbine wends
To rescue from the briar her friends;
'Tis sadly thinking for what ends
'Twas borrowed.
The tragacanth with purple eyelids weeps,
The ivy-thorn his leaves depends
To where the comfort woodbine wends
To rescue from the briar her friends;
'Tis sadly thinking for what ends
'Twas borrowed.
For my Lord's brow—my tears fall last of all;
My bitter weeping closes up the night;
I cannot hear, I weep so sore
The thorn lamenting evermore
To thin leaves stirring on the floor
Of moss that trembles to the core,
'Twas borrowed.
My bitter weeping closes up the night;
I cannot hear, I weep so sore
The thorn lamenting evermore
To thin leaves stirring on the floor
Of moss that trembles to the core,
'Twas borrowed.
Yet have I secret comforts in my soul,
I think my soul finds comfort in strange ways,
Where others would but die, or sink
Depth after depth from the first brink
Of sinning; this, as I must think,
Doth distance me at least a link
From others,
I think my soul finds comfort in strange ways,
Where others would but die, or sink
Depth after depth from the first brink
Of sinning; this, as I must think,
Doth distance me at least a link
From others,
40
From traitorous mouths which do but hide the truth,
As clouds that hold no water hide the heavens,
And slip from guilt to guilt like beasts
In tracks, as Pharisees and priests,
Who strive the greatest's, not the least's,
Sedile to occupy at feasts
From others.
As clouds that hold no water hide the heavens,
And slip from guilt to guilt like beasts
In tracks, as Pharisees and priests,
Who strive the greatest's, not the least's,
Sedile to occupy at feasts
From others.
Then jostle one another and devour;
So these composed souls, being set one way,
If they transgress, pursue the wrong
Sleekly from guile to guile along
A path well downwards, in a throng—
So common 'tis—like swine the prong
Drives onward
So these composed souls, being set one way,
If they transgress, pursue the wrong
Sleekly from guile to guile along
A path well downwards, in a throng—
So common 'tis—like swine the prong
Drives onward
Without reprieve; they do but overbear
The one course which their nature gave at first,
While I, though in me was made breach,
Because I hate them, rally reach;
I fell before their hoot and screech,
Because I hate the ways that each
Drives onward.
The one course which their nature gave at first,
While I, though in me was made breach,
Because I hate them, rally reach;
I fell before their hoot and screech,
Because I hate the ways that each
Drives onward.
Oh, coward, coward, coward! But this I know,
That love in God is goodness, and in Christ
That love is mercy, and in man
That love is sorrow; I shall plan,
Unplan, and grasp, and gasp, and scan,
From this my life out; who shall ban
My sorrow?
That love in God is goodness, and in Christ
That love is mercy, and in man
That love is sorrow; I shall plan,
Unplan, and grasp, and gasp, and scan,
From this my life out; who shall ban
My sorrow?
41
Not earth that drinks my tears; not heavenly sky,
Not they who took with me the bread and wine;
Perhaps not God who looks on me,
The Father, thinking of the tree
Of cursing in me rooted, see
The flinders; not the victim, He,
My sorrow!
Not they who took with me the bread and wine;
Perhaps not God who looks on me,
The Father, thinking of the tree
Of cursing in me rooted, see
The flinders; not the victim, He,
My sorrow!
| Christ's Company and Other Poems | |