The Golden Treasury of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language |
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ST. JOHN BAPTIST
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 | The Golden Treasury |  |
LXXXII
ST. JOHN BAPTIST
I think he had not heard of the far towns;
Nor of the deeds of men, nor of kings' crowns;
Before the thought of God took hold of him,
As he was sitting dreaming in the calm
Of one first noon, upon the desert's rim,
Beneath the tall fair shadows of the palm,
All overcome with some strange inward balm.
Nor of the deeds of men, nor of kings' crowns;
Before the thought of God took hold of him,
As he was sitting dreaming in the calm
Of one first noon, upon the desert's rim,
Beneath the tall fair shadows of the palm,
All overcome with some strange inward balm.
He number'd not the changes of the year,
The days, the nights, and he forgot all fear
Of death: each day he thought there should have been
A shining ladder set for him to climb
Athwart some opening in the heavens, e'en
To God's eternity, and see, sublime—
His face whose shadow passing fills all time.
The days, the nights, and he forgot all fear
Of death: each day he thought there should have been
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Athwart some opening in the heavens, e'en
To God's eternity, and see, sublime—
His face whose shadow passing fills all time.
But he walk'd through the ancient wilderness.
O, there the prints of feet were numberless
And holy all about him! And quite plain
He saw each spot an angel silvershod
Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain
The place seem'd fresh,—and, bright and lately trod,
A long track show'd where Enoch walk'd with God.
O, there the prints of feet were numberless
And holy all about him! And quite plain
He saw each spot an angel silvershod
Had lit upon; where Jacob too had lain
The place seem'd fresh,—and, bright and lately trod,
A long track show'd where Enoch walk'd with God.
And often, while the sacred darkness trail'd
Along the mountains smitten and unveil'd
By rending lightnings,—over all the noise
Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bow'd
From its foundations—he could hear the voice
Of great Elias prophesying loud
To Him whose face was cover'd by a cloud.
Along the mountains smitten and unveil'd
By rending lightnings,—over all the noise
Of thunders and the earth that quaked and bow'd
From its foundations—he could hear the voice
Of great Elias prophesying loud
To Him whose face was cover'd by a cloud.
A. O'Shaughnessy
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