Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PENITENT, by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PENITENT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Within a dark monastic cell
Last Line: When thou commandest, work for joy.'
Subject(s): Penance


WITHIN a dark monastic cell
A monk's pale corpse was calmly laid,
Peace on his lips was seen to dwell,
And light above the forehead play'd.

Upon the stone beneath his hand
Was found a small and written scroll,
And he whose eye the record scann'd
From this dim part must guess the whole.

"There comes a thought at dead of night,
And bids the shapes of sleep be gone,
A thought that's more than thought, a sight
On which the sun has never shone.

"A pale, stern face, and sterner far,
Because it is a woman's face;
It gleams a waning worn-out star,
That once was bright with morning grace.

"An icy vision, calm, and cold,
The sprite of vanish'd hours it seems;
It brings to me the times of old,
That look like, but that are not, dreams.

"It brings back sorrows long gone by,
And folly stain'd not wash'd with tears;
Years fall away like leaves, and die --
And life's bare bony stem appears.

"Dark face! Thou art not all a shade
That fancy bids beside me be;
The blood, that once in passion play'd
Through my young veins, beat high for thee.

"Now changed and wither'd all! My sighs
Round thee have breathed a sicklier air,
And sad before my saddening eyes
Thou showest the hues of my despair.

"Still prayers are strong, and God is good;
Man is not made for endless ill,
Drear sprite! my soul's tormented mood
Has yet a hope thou canst not kill.

"Repentance clothes in grass and flowers
The grave in which the past is laid;
And close to faith's old minster towers,
The cross lights up the ghostly shade.

"Around its foot the shapes of fear,
Whose eyes my weaker heart appal,
As sister suppliants thrill the ear
With cries that loud for mercy call.

"Thou, God, wilt hear! Thy pangs are meant
To heal the spirit, not destroy;
And fiends from hell for vengeance sent,
When thou commandest, work for joy.'





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