Irish Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nobody knows but you and I, my dear,
And the stars, the spies of God, that lean and peer,
Those nights when you and I in a narrow strait
Were under the whips of God and desolate.
In extreme pain, in uttermost agony.
We bore the cross for each other, you and I,
When, through the darkest hour, the night of dread,
I suffered and you supported my head.

Ties that bind us together for life and death,
Oh, hard-set fight in the darkness, shuddering breath,
Because a man can only bear as he may,
And find no tears for easing, the woman's way.
Anguish of pity, sharp in the heart like a sword:
Dost Thou not know, O Lord? Thou knowest, Lord,
What we endured for each other: our wounds were red
When he suffered and I supported his head.

Grief that binds us closer than smile or kiss,
Into the pang God slips the exquisite bliss.

You were my angel and I your angel, as he,
The angel, comforted Christ in His agony,
Lifting Him up from the earth that His blood made wet,
Pillowing the holy head, dabbled in sweat.
Thou who wert under the scourges knowest to prove
Love by its pangs, love that endures for love.