Upon the eyes, the lips, the feet, On all the passages of sense, The atoning oil is spread with sweet Renewal of lost innocence. The feet, that lately ran so fast To meet desire, are soothly sealed' The eyes, that were so often cast On vanity, are touched and healed. From troublous sights and sounds set free; In such a twilight hour of breath, Shall one retrace his life, or see, Through shadows, the true face of death? Vials of mercy! Sacring oils! I know not where nor when I come, Nor through what wanderings and toils, To crave of you Viaticum. Yet, when the walls of flesh grow weak, In such an hour, it well may be, Through mist and darkness, light will break, And each anointed sense will see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1880 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE WORKHOUSE by GEORGE ROBERT SIMS TO THE REV. F.D. MAURICE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN ROUNDEL by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |