HERE on their knees men swore: the stones were black, Black in the people's minds and words, yet they Were at that time, as now, in colour grey. But what is colour, if upon the rack Of conscience souls are placed by deeds that lack Concord with oaths? What differ night and day Then, when before the Perjured on his way Hell opens, and the heavens in vengeance crack Above his head uplifted in vain prayer To Saint, or Fiend, or to the Godhead whom He had insulted -- Peasant, King, or Thane? Fly where the culprit may, guilt meets a doom; And, from invisible worlds at need laid bare, Come links for social order's awful chain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 110. THE OASIS OF SIDI KHALED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FOR THE BAPTIST by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN GERONTION by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT PEG OF LIMAVADDY by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY WRITTEN IN IRELAND by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK PASSED BY by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |