WHEN the young Church was robbed of her Adored, Eager and innocent her longing mind Mean after mean to ease her heart designed With his pretended presence for reward. For first in haste his sayings she explored, But yet he came not; soon the cross she signed In court or catacomb; then, for still she pined, Shaped thereupon the image of her lord. Last, in a passionate rush of memory, She sank, she cried: @3This, surely this is be, He newly come, Himself become our food@1. Divine deception! ... had his tenderness Not foregone time and outrun her distress, Murmuring: @3This my body, this my blood@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WOMAN'S LAST WORD by ROBERT BROWNING ON A TREE FALLEN ACROSS THE ROAD (TO HEAR US TALK) by ROBERT FROST NOVEMBER BLUE by ALICE MEYNELL THE CITY MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY [OR, GARDEN] MOUSE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN |