CONTEMPT and pangs and haunting fears -- Too late for hope, too late for ease, Too late for rising from the dead; Too late, too late to bend my knees, Or bow my head, Or weep, or ask for tears. Hark! . . . One I hear Who calls to me: 'Give Me thy thorn and grief and scorn, Give Me thy ruin and regret. Press on thro' darkness toward the morn: One loves thee yet: Have I forgotten thee?' Lord, Who art Thou? Lord, is it Thou My Lord and God Lord Jesus Christ? How said I that I sat alone And desolate and unsufficed? Surely a stone Would raise Thy praises now! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON HIS DEPARTURE HENCE by ROBERT HERRICK PASA THALASSA THALASSA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON PICTURESQUE; A FRAGMENT by JOHN AIKIN THERE WAS A GARDEN by MARIE BARTON IDYLL 7. OF HYACINTHUS by BION |