NO monkish garb he wears, no beads he tells, Nor is immured in walls remote from strife. But from his heart deep mercy ever wells; He looks humanely forth on human life. Not hedged about by sacerdotal rule, He walks a fellow of the scarred and weak. Liberal and wise his gifts; he goes to school To Justice; and he turns the other cheek. He looks not holy; simple is his belief; His creed for mystic visions do not scan; His face shows lines cut there by others' grief, And in his eyes is love of brother-man. No medieval mystery, no crowned, Dim figure, halo-ringed, uncanny bright. A modern saint: a man who treads earth's ground, And ministers to men with all his might. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANUARY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS CANZONET: TO HIS COY LOVE by MICHAEL DRAYTON AFTER THE LAST BREATH (J.H. 1813-1904) by THOMAS HARDY NEUTRALITY LOATHSOME by ROBERT HERRICK SONNET: 29 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO THE MAN-OF-WAR-BIRD by WALT WHITMAN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 30 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH MY SWEET LITTLE BABY, WHAT MEANEST THOU TO CRY? by WILLIAM BYRD |