Up the worn steps and through the ivied porch That screened the entrance to an ancient church, A gentle school-boy passed, in earnest thought. His heart was throbbing and his eyes were filled With tears that trembled. Pausing in the nave, He looked around with timid glance and gazed On windows lustrous with the blazoned forms Of saints and martyrs and angelic hosts, And on a priceless miracle of art That o'er the altar hung with mute appeal— Christ, bowed to earth beneath a weighty Cross. He sighed; "I also have my Cross to bear," And to the dim confessional drew nigh. A white-haired priest, with mild benignant eyes, Beheld him coming, and in gracious tones That oft had wooed the sinner from his sin, Exclaimed: "My son! if thou dost seek mine aid It waits thine asking. Weep not—but lay bare The secret sorrows of thine inmost soul." The boy replied: "My Father! I have sinned, And am not worthy to be called thy son. Still, if thou wilt, my sad confession hear And grant forgiveness in the name of God." He knelt: with sobs of inarticulate woe He faltered unintelligible words In broken accents, so that he who heard Failed to interpret their significance. In vain he listened patiently; at length, Loath to confuse the boy, "Dear child," he said, My ears are dull, for I am frail and old, I cannot glean the purport of thy speech: Write it, I pray thee. In the scholar's bag Slung from thy shoulder, there are, doubtless, stored A tablet and a pencil. Write I pray." The boy obeyed: and, weeping while he wrote, Traced the brief record of his self-reproach, And meekly gave the tablet to the priest. But lo! in token that his angel watched, The simple child's innumerable tears Had blurred and blotted each remorseful line:— The words were visible to God alone! With tears of sympathy, the white-haired priest Perused the baffling and bewildering signs, That told more plainly than the plainest speech The sad, sweet anguish of a contrite heart. Then with a grateful smile, he blessed the Lord, And softly murmured: "Child! depart in peace. God pardons thee—thy penitential tears Have washed away all record of thy sin!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STORM by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: MRS. GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OCTAVES: 7 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON |