Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GOOD FRIDAY'S HOOPOE, by DOUGLAS AINSLIE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GOOD FRIDAY'S HOOPOE, by             Poem Explanation        
First Line: On the holiest day of the holy seven


On the holiest day of the holy seven,
As the Powers of Evil strove
With the Son of Man come down from Heaven,
We walked in the silver grove.
Like a dart from the north to the south it flew ,
Grey bird of the red -gold crest;
Ah! then we remembered what once we knew ,
How it went on a holy quest.
Three birds of the northern world took wing
When they knew the Lord would die
Their best of feathery help to bring
In His long agony.
The Straightbill in his weed of brown,
The Robin Whitebreast too ,
And a little grey bird of no renown,
The grey and black Hoopoe.
They came to the land of sand and stone:
Christ Jesu nailed to tree!
Fierce blazed the sun; they heard Him groan ,
Heard Paynims' mockery.
Quoth Whitebreast: ' I will staunch the blood
That flows from His wounds so red ':
Quoth Straightbill: Mine the hardihood
To pluck the thorns from His head .'
Quoth the grey Hoopoe: 'I will fly before
His kind eyes and the sun ,
To shield His face whom I adore
Until the Day be done. '
And thus did they, and when Lord Christ
Of Whitebreast's deed was ware ,
Quoth He unto the Robin Whitebreast:
Of Me thou hast had care.
Now what can I do for thee, robin dear?
What wouldest thou for reward?
Ask what thou will'st withouten fear,
Of Jesus Christ, thy Lord .'
Quoth Whitebreast: Sir, my breast is red
With Thy dear blood this day:
These feathers where Thy blood was shed ,
I would they were red alway .
So be it, ' answered the Lord Christ, '
Red shall thy breast remain,
Ay, red forever the Robin's Redbreast
That strove to lull my pain .'
And thou that pluckest thorn on thorn
From the crown upon
My brow Bent is thy beak , thy plumage torn ,
What guerdon askest thou? '
Quoth Crossbill on the thornless crown:
'I would my bill were crossed
Alway and changed my robe of brown
Lest the memory be lost. '
Quoth Jesus Christ the Lord: ' Thy beak
Forever crossed shall be,
And pink the Crossbill's plumes that streak
The drops that came from Me. '
Then Jesus looked on the Hoopoe
That ever with brave grey wing
As a shield of love before Him flew ,
A grey shield quivering.
'And thou, Hoopoe, that long hast flown
Betwixt Me and the sun,
Right dear thy small grey form hath grown,
A great reward hast won.
'Sir,' quoth the Hoopoe, ' nought for me
I crave but to remain
The little grey bird that shielded
Thee And strove to ease Thy pain. '
Quoth Jesus: 'Bird , thou hast chosen best,
Let the rays thou hast kept from Me
Forever in thy plumed crest Shine for a memory.'






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