(In the National Gallery) TURN not the prophet's page, O Son! He knew All that thou hast to suffer, and hath writ. Not yet thine hour of knowledge. Infinite The sorrows that thy manhood's lot must rue And dire acquaintance of thy grief. That clue The spirits of thy mournful ministerings Seek through yon scroll in silence. For these things The angels have desired to look into. Still before Eden waves the fiery sword,-- Her Tree of Life unransomed: whose sad Tree Of Knowledge yet to growth of Calvary Must yield its Tempter,--Hell the earliest dead Of Earth resign,--and yet, O Son and Lord, The Seed o' the woman bruise the serpent's head. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE CAGED GOLDFINCH by THOMAS HARDY THE WHITE COMRADE (AFTER W.H. LEATHAM'S 'THE COMRADE IN WHIRE') by ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER THE GODODDIN: CONAN by ANEIRIN THE CYNOTAPH by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM FUTILITY by CHARLOTTE BLAISING |