WAS it a dream -- the outline of that Face, Which seemed to lighten from the Holy Place, Meeting all want, fulfilling all desire? A dream -- the music of that Voice most sweet, Which seemed to rise above the chanting choir? A dream -- the treadings of those wounded Feet, Pacing about the Altar still and slow? Illusion -- all I thought to love and know? Strong Sorrow-wrestler of Mount Calvary, Speak through the blackness of Thine Agony, Say, have I ever known Thee? answer me! Speak, Merciful and Mighty, lifted up To draw those to Thee who have power to will The roseate Baptism, and the bitter Cup, The Royal Graces of the Cross-crowned Hill. Terrible Golgotha -- among the bones Which whiten thee, as thick as splintered stones Where headlong rocks have crushed themselves away, I stumble on -- Is it too dark to pray? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO by EZRA POUND OF ANY OLD MAN by ISAAC ROSENBERG MOTHER EARTH by GEORGE SANTAYANA PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA MATRES DOLOROSAE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE AEOLIAN HARP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A CHRISTMAS CAROL by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |