HIGH stretched upon the swinging yard, I gather in the sheet; But it is hard And stiff, and one cries haste. Then He that is most dear in my regard Of all the crew gives aidance meet; But from His hands, and from His feet, A glory spreads wherewith the night is starred: Moreover of a cup most bitter-sweet With fragrance as of nard, And myrrh, and cassia spiced, He proffers me to taste. Then I to Him: -- "Art Thou the Christ?" He saith -- "Thou say'st." Like to an ox That staggers 'neath the mortal blow, She grinds upon the rocks: -- Then straight and low Leaps forth the levelled line, and in our quarter locks. The cradle's rigged; with swerving of the blast We go, Our Captain last -- Demands "Who fired that shot?" Each silent stands -- Ah, sweet perplexity! This too was He. I have an arbour wherein came a toad Most hideous to see -- Immediate, seizing staff or goad, I smote it cruelly. Then all the place with subtle radiance glowed -- I looked, and it was He! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MA LADY'S LIPS AM LIKE DE HONEY (NEGRO LOVE SONG) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A RUNNABLE STAG by JOHN DAVIDSON FIELD AMBULANCE IN RETREAT; VIA DOLOROSA, VIA SACRA by MAY SINCLAIR SONG, FR. THE LOVER'S PROGRESS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT THE ABANDONED by MATHILDE BLIND FORT GRISWOLD, SEPT. 6, 1781 by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SO I MAY FEEL THE HANDS OF GOD by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 4. FRA ANGELICO by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON AN ELEGY ON THE LADY PEN; SENT TO MY MISTRESS OUT OF FRANCE by THOMAS CAREW |