GIRT in the panther-fells, Violets in my hair, Down I ran through the woody dells, Through the morning wild and fair,— To sit by the road till the sun was high, That I might see some god pass by. Fluting amid the thyme I dreamed through the golden day, Calling through melody and rime: "Iacchus! Come this way,— From harrowing Hades like a king, Vine leaves and glories scattering." Twilight was all rose-red, When, crowned with vine and thorn, Came a stranger god from out the dead; And his hands and feet were torn. I knew Him not, for He came alone: I knew Him not, whom I fain had known. He said: "For love, for love, I wear the vine and thorn." He said: "For love, for love, My hands and feet were torn: For love, the winepress Death I trod." And I cried in pain: "O Lord my God!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OBERMANN ONCE MORE by MATTHEW ARNOLD MARY'S LAMB by SARAH JOSEPHA BUELL HALE FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: TARAFA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |