Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast: God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips. You striped in secret with breath-taking whips, Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced To crosses meant for Jesu's; you whom the East With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships, You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased, God shall o'er-brim the measures you have spent With oil of gladness; for sackcloth and frieze And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease. Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent: Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT OUR GOOD LUCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FETES GALANTES: PANYOMIME by PAUL VERLAINE THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS (A CAT'S TALE, WITH ADDITIONS) by ELIZA LEE CABOT FOLLEN THE AGE OF WISDOM by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY THE APPROACH OF LOVE by LOUIS ARAGON THE WELCOME by FARID OD-DIN MOHAMMAD EBN EBRAHIM ATTAR THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 3 by WILLIAM BASSE |