HIGH stretched upon the swinging yard, I gather in the sheet; But it is hard And stiff, and one cries haste. Then He that is most dear in my regard Of all the crew gives aidance meet; But from His hands, and from His feet, A glory spreads wherewith the night is starred: Moreover of a cup most bitter-sweet With fragrance as of nard, And myrrh, and cassia spiced, He proffers me to taste. Then I to Him: -- "Art Thou the Christ?" He saith -- "Thou say'st." Like to an ox That staggers 'neath the mortal blow, She grinds upon the rocks: -- Then straight and low Leaps forth the levelled line, and in our quarter locks. The cradle's rigged; with swerving of the blast We go, Our Captain last -- Demands "Who fired that shot?" Each silent stands -- Ah, sweet perplexity! This too was He. I have an arbour wherein came a toad Most hideous to see -- Immediate, seizing staff or goad, I smote it cruelly. Then all the place with subtle radiance glowed -- I looked, and it was He! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LIBERTY AND SLAVERY by GEORGE MOSES HORTON THE WOOD OF FLOWERS by JAMES STEPHENS ROMAIOS by WILLAM GAY BALLANTINE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: SONNET 24. BALCOMBE FOREST by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) HER SECRET IS BETRAYED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |