THY love thou sentest oft to me, And still as oft I thrust it back; Thy messengers I could not see In those who everything did lack, The poor, the outcast, and the black. Pride held his hand before mine eyes, The world with flattery stuffed mine ears; I looked to see a monarch's guise, Nor dreamed thy love would knock for years, Poor, naked, fettered, full of tears. Yet, when I sent my love to thee, Thou with a smile didst take it in, And entertain'dst it royally, Though grimed with earth, with hunger thin, And leprous with the taint of sin. Now every day thy love I meet, As o'er the earth it wanders wide, With weary step and bleeding feet, Still knocking at the heart of pride And offering grace, though still denied. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON ENGLISH MONSIEUR by BEN JONSON ON A LADY WHO FANCIED HERSELF A BEAUTY by CHARLES SACKVILLE (1637-1706) FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE EVE OF BANNOCKBURN by JOHN BARBOUR OVER THE ROSE-LEAVES, UNDER THE ROSE by JOHN BENNETT (1865-1956) PSALM 14. DIXIT INSIPIENS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |