Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN EASTER IDYL, by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN EASTER IDYL, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Many a year the easter came, laughing o'er / land and sea
Last Line: And even in sorrow's exile may lift up her eyes and be blessed.
Alternate Author Name(s): Van Deth, Gerrit, Mrs.
Subject(s): Catholic Church - Clergy; Easter; Holidays; Love; Prayer; Catholic Priests; The Resurrection


MANY a year the Easter came, laughing o'er land and sea,
Wafting the perfume of lilies wherever its dawn-light fell,
Kindling the flames of the roses, and waving their torches free,
Far over hill and mountain, and deep in the lonesome dell.

And many a year at Easter I sat in the old church loft,
And lifted my voice in Te Deums, and sang like a mavis clear,
Sang of glory and triumph, and my voice thrilled sweet and soft,
O! many a time in the Easter of many a cloudless year.

Till there fell a season of anguish, when the stars went out in the sky,
When I covered my face, and bent my knees, and beat with a hopeless prayer
At the golden gates of heaven that were shut to my bitter cry,
While the Angel of Death at my threshold was deaf to my love's despair.

Then, straight on that wild, bleak winter there followed the fairest spring,
With snowdrops and apple blossoms in riotous haste to bloom,
With the sudden note of the robin, and the flash of the bluebird's wing;—
And all that was mine of its beauty was the turf that covered a tomb.

O! the bells rang out for Easter, rang strong and sweet and shrill,
And the organ's rolling thunder pealed through the long church aisle,
And the children fluttered with flowers, and I sat mute and still,
I who had clean forgotten both how to pray and to smile.

And I murmured in fierce rebellion: "There is naught that endures below,
Naught but the lamentations that are rent from souls in pain;"
And the joy of the Easter music, it struck on my ears like a blow,
For I knew that my day was over, I could never be glad again!

And then—how it happened I know not—there was One in my sight who
stood,
And lo! on His brow was the thorn-print, in His hands were the nails' rough
scars,
And the shadow that lay before Him was the shade of the holy rood,
But the glow in His eyes was deeper than the light of the morning stars.

"Daughter," He said, "have comfort! Arise! keep Easter-tide!
I, for thy sins who suffered and died on the cruel tree,
I, who was dead, am living; no evil shall e'er betide
Those who, in earth or heaven, are pledged unto life with Me."

Now I wake to a holier Easter, happier than of old,
And again my voice is lifted in Te Deums sweet and strong;
I send it to join the anthem in the wonderful city of gold,
Where the hymns of the ransomed forever are timed to the Easter song.

And I can be glad with the gladness that is born of a perfect peace;
On the strength of the Strong I am resting; I know that His will is best.
And who that has found that secret from darkness has won release,
And even in sorrow's exile may lift up her eyes and be blessed.





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