"IBRING Thee balm, and, lo, Thou art not here! Twice have I poured mine ointment on Thy brow, And washed Thy feet with tears. Disdain'st Thou now The spikenard and the myrrh? Has Death, alas, betrayed Thee with a kiss That seals Thee from the memory of mine?" "Mary!" It is the self-same Voice Divine. "Rabboni!" -- only this. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 55 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DIRGE FOR TWO VETERANS by WALT WHITMAN THE AUTO-DA-FE; A LEGEND OF SPAIN by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM WOULD YOU RETURN? by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TO A CLOUD by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT MOAN ON THE PRARIE by MARY F. COCHRANE |