Even here we meet the Critics. The deep grief, Which all imaginative Art would faint To express - the Angel's visit of relief - The God bowed earthward like some mourning saint - They tone down all in their unhappy way; Distilling rose-tints from their Saviour's blood, The God-man's sweat of anguish! to portray Their sweet young Syrian - so divinely good, 'We must forgive His worshippers', they say; Not so the Church! and tho' she needs must blush At her own feeble handling, yet alway, When she would paint her Master's darkest day, She takes the full-hued life-drop on her brush, And works, in simple faith, as best she may. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OWEN SEAMAN; ESTABLISHES ENTENE CORDIALE IN MANNER GUY WETMORE CARRYL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS by HENRY GLASSFORD BELL TO WAKEN AN OLD LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS NIOBE: INEXORABLE DEATH by AESCHYLUS BRUCE: INTRODUCTION by JOHN BARBOUR FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 2 by GEORGE BARKER |