And will they cast the altars down, Scatter the chalice, crush the bread? In field, in village, and in town He hides an unregarded head; Waits in the corn-lands far and near, Bright in His sun, dark in His frost, Sweet in the vine, ripe in the ear -- Lonely unconsecrated Host. In ambush at the merry board The Victim lurks unsacrificed; The mill conceals the harvest's Lord, The wine-press holds the unbidden Christ. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGELUS; HEARD AT THE MISSION DOLORES IN SAN FRANCISCO, 1868 by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE LONELY CHILD by JAMES OPPENHEIM THE SLEEPER by EDGAR ALLAN POE PRAYER FOR THIS HOUSE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE WANDERING JEW by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER JOB. THE INSCRUTABLE MYSTERY by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |