NOT thee, ourselves on thee for cross, O Lord, Herein we see; feeling the whole world hang Distraught, and knowing not whence comes the pang, Nor how its hands and feet are bound with cord Of hate and nailed with longing to the abhorred Tree of its grief, nor that the word which rang (In its cheated ear) of pleasure only sprang From its own pain's delirium: now, O stored With sap of a new spring, grow with us one! That, then thy perfect crucifixion, Teach us; which known, the healing virtue works: Dying, we have no strength except we die. In dreams of a green tree what madness lurks, But O what blossoming beauty in the dry! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUNERAL OF YOUTH: THRENODY by RUPERT BROOKE CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME' by ROBERT BROWNING A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 2 by THOMAS CAMPION QUATRAIN: SPENDTHRIFT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 38. AL-KABIR by EDWIN ARNOLD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 57. AL-HAMID by EDWIN ARNOLD REBECCA; WHO SLAMMED DOORS FOR FUN AND PERISHED MISERABLY by HILAIRE BELLOC |