VINES branching stilly Shade the open door, In the house of Zion's Lily, Cleanly and poor. Oh, brighter than wild laurel The Babe bounds in her hand, The King, who for apparel Hath but a swaddling-band, And sees her heavenlier smiling than stars in His command! Soon, mystic changes Part Him from her breast, Yet there awhile He ranges Gardens of rest: Yea, she the first to ponder Our ransom and recall, Awhile may rock Him under Her young curls' fall, Against that only sinless love-loyal heart of all. What shall inure Him Unto the deadly dream, When the Tetrarch shall abjure Him, The thief blaspheme, And scribe and soldier jostle About the shameful tree, And even an Apostle Demand to touch and see?— But she hath kissed her Flower where the Wounds are to be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RHODORA: ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS IN PRAISE OF ASTRAEA by MARY SIDNEY HERBERT SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT [1583] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY A CHRISTMAS CAROL by GEORGE WITHER THE GIRL'S LAMENTATION by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM MALIGNED MORTALITY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |