WAS it a dream -- the outline of that Face, Which seemed to lighten from the Holy Place, Meeting all want, fulfilling all desire? A dream -- the music of that Voice most sweet, Which seemed to rise above the chanting choir? A dream -- the treadings of those wounded Feet, Pacing about the Altar still and slow? Illusion -- all I thought to love and know? Strong Sorrow-wrestler of Mount Calvary, Speak through the blackness of Thine Agony, Say, have I ever known Thee? answer me! Speak, Merciful and Mighty, lifted up To draw those to Thee who have power to will The roseate Baptism, and the bitter Cup, The Royal Graces of the Cross-crowned Hill. Terrible Golgotha -- among the bones Which whiten thee, as thick as splintered stones Where headlong rocks have crushed themselves away, I stumble on -- Is it too dark to pray? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FETES GALANTES: PANYOMIME by PAUL VERLAINE VISIONS: 5 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) A NEW EARTH by WILLIAM ARTHUR DUNKERLEY WORDLY WISE (5) by MOTHER GOOSE TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL THE TWO RABBIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER BATUSCHKA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |