HERE on their knees men swore: the stones were black, Black in the people's minds and words, yet they Were at that time, as now, in colour grey. But what is colour, if upon the rack Of conscience souls are placed by deeds that lack Concord with oaths? What differ night and day Then, when before the Perjured on his way Hell opens, and the heavens in vengeance crack Above his head uplifted in vain prayer To Saint, or Fiend, or to the Godhead whom He had insulted -- Peasant, King, or Thane? Fly where the culprit may, guilt meets a doom; And, from invisible worlds at need laid bare, Come links for social order's awful chain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MONK IN THE KITCHEN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH STRANGE MEETINGS: 10 by HAROLD MONRO LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY VIRGILS GNAT: DEDICATORY SONNET by EDMUND SPENSER THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT [OR AFTER] CORUNNA by CHARLES WOLFE OUR WEAKNESS by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS LET ME FORGET by OMA CARLYLE ANDERSON |