Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GARDEN, by CHARLES NORMAN


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GARDEN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Weary, he came unto gethsemane
Last Line: He rose now, and his face was clear of tears.


Weary, he came unto Gethsemane,
The Master, with the world's grief in his weeping.
In the sweet grass, he knelt beneath a tree;
Pale April's spirit moved around him, heaping
The ground with petals, but he did not see.
He felt a tremulous misery creeping
Over his taunt-stabbed heart, and then he cried,
Cried till his heart was breaking in his side.

All through the dew-drenched night he knelt, and wept.
The stars swept brighter overhead; the trees
Loomed high with monstrous palms. Thin shadows crept,
Mingling with sounds of mystical, lost seas,
Whenever the wind that in the branches slept
Arose and stirred the night. Still on his knees
The Master prayed, and cried, and would not rest;
And once in the night he sobbed and beat his breast.

"Lord God, I have beheld Thee clothed in rain,
Invisible with beauty," Jesus prayed,
"And I have given love, and eased men's pain,
And wept their woes, and now I am dismayed.
I cannot face the people on the plain
Come with great crying unto me for aid.
I dare not look on woe; I turn to Thee
That I may see Thy sign, and what will be."

Over the hills he saw the lanterns shine;
Like a ship's lamps they were, rising and falling.
And there were soldiers in that straggling line,
For now on the wind he heard a trumpet calling
That died with the low wind. He heard it whine
Long after the centurions came bawling.
And darkness groped among the trees; the cold
Stirred in thick mists. He felt himself grow old.

His thoughts went wandering now to Nazareth;
He moaned, thinking of Mary and his home.
In the still hour, hearing far murmurs of death,
"How sweet," he thought, "it is to smell the loam,
To watch the stars in the pool, and feel the breath
Of home winds blowing, sometimes full of the foam
Of distant, breaking seas -- how sweet, how sweet!"
There was a rustling now; he heard the marchers' feet

Tramping his doom. And still he knelt and prayed,
Lifting his head to heaven, and his face
Glowed with a rich unearthly light. He swayed
To the drone of prayers in that lone place,
And no man heard him; but he heard men wade
Through the tall grass with an uneven pace,
Circling him all about with glistening spears;
He rose now, and his face was clear of tears.





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