How little didst thou think, while tripping down To meet Herodias, from that wild carouse, That thou wouldst win such terrible renown, And men should name thy name with heavy brows! For, in the fierce light of thy mother's guilt, Before the nations thou art dancing still Up to the wine-cups! Holy life was spilt, And thy fair girlhood served a murderous will: And so thou fillest up the historic page With the keen Scribe and ruthless Pharisee, And, linked with all the furies of the age, Hast found no pitying heart to plead for thee; For, lo! thy dancing-dress is bloody-red, And thy young hands have borne John Baptist's head! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MAKE A PRAIRIE by EMILY DICKINSON WOMAN'S WILL by JOHN GODFREY SAXE QUATRAIN: FAME by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LOVE IN ARMOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET STEEL OR GOLD?; THE QUESTION by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |