Times of that ignorance with eyes that slumbered Seeing he saw not, till the days that are, Now, many multitudes whom none hath numbered, Seek him and find him, for he is not far. Ay and ere now, a triumph and a token, Flown o'er the severance of the sundering deep, Came there who called, and with the message spoken Followed the wandering and the ways of sleep. Ay and ere now above the shining city Full of all knowledge and a God unknown Stood I and spake, and passion of my pity Drew him from heaven and showed him to his own. Heard ye of her who faint beneath the burthen Strained to the cross and in its shadow fell? Love for a love, the angels' for the earthen,— Ah, what a secret for the heavens to tell! She as one wild, whom very stripes enharden, Leapt many times from torture of a dream, Shrank by the pallid olives of the garden, Groves of a teacher, and Ilissus' stream: Then to their temple Damaris would clamber, Stood where an idol in the lifted sky Bright in a light and eminent in amber Heard not, nor pitied her, nor made reply. Thence the strong soul, which never power can pinion, Sprang with a wail into the empty air; Thence the wide eyes upon a hushed dominion Looked in a fierce astonishment of prayer: Looked to Hymettus and the purple heather, Looked to Peiræus and the purple sea, Blending of waters and of winds together, Winds that were wild and waters that were free. So from the soft air, infinite and pearly, Breathed a desire with which she could not cope, Could not, methinks, so eager and so early, Chant to her loveliness the dirge of hope; Could not have done with weeping and with laughter Leaving men angry and sweet love unknown; Could not go forth upon a blank hereafter Weak and a woman, aimless and alone. Therefore with set face and with smiling bitter Took she the anguish, carried it apart;— Ah, to what friend to speak it? it were fitter Thrust in the aching hollows of her heart. Then I preached Christ: and when she heard the story,— Oh, is such triumph possible to men? Hardly, my King, had I beheld thy glory, Hardly had known thine excellence till then. Thou in one fold the afraid and the forsaken,— Thou with one shepherding canst soothe and save; Speak but the word! the Evangel shall awaken Life in the lost, the hero in the slave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HILLS WERE MADE FOR FREEDOM by WILLIAM GOLDSMITH BROWN THERE IS NO DEATH by JOHN LUCKEY MCCREERY SILENCE SINGS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 8 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |