COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand, For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land, Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If I this night before God's throne should stand. "He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height." Nay, peace, I shall behold before the night, The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, The wounded hands, the weary human face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE RETURNED GIRLS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE UNKNOWN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MOUNTAIN VALLEY by MALCOLM COWLEY A PLANTATION BACCHANAL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: THE JURY DELIBERATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: J. MILTON MILES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |