I love the pious candle-light, The boy's fresh voices, void of thought, The woman's eager, inward sight Of what in vain her heart had sought. I love the violets at the feet Of Jesus, red with some blood-stain; I love the cross, and it is sweet To make a sacrifice of pain. Some offer bullocks to the skies; Some, incense, with their drowsy praise; He brings the gods what most they prize Who sorrow on the altar lays. I love the Virgin's flowering shrine, Her golden crown, her jewelled stole, The seven dolorous swords that shine Around her heart, an aureole. Thou Mother of a suffering race, Whose pangs console us for our birth, Reign thou for ever, by the grace Of sorrow, Queen of all the earth! Perchance when Carnival is done, And sun and moon go out for me, Christ will be God, and I the one That in my youth I used to be. Things all are shadows, shadows all, And ghosts within an idiot's brain. A little while, they fade and fall; A little while, they come again. Sing softly, choristers; ye sing Not faith alone, but doubt and dread. Ring wildly, Easter bells; ye ring For Christ arisen, and hope dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SUMMER DAYS by WATHEN MARK WILKS CALL THE PAINS OF SLEEP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE CITY OF GOD by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: SETH COMPTON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |