I. O SON of man, but of what man who knows? That broughtest healing on thy leathern wings To priests, and under them didst gather kings, And madest friends to thee of all man's foe's; Before thine incarnation, the tale goes, Thy virgin mother, pure of sensual stings. Communed by night with angels of chaste things, And, full of grace, untimely felt the throes Of motherhood upon her, and believed The obscure annunciation made when late A raven-feathered raven-throated dove Croaked salutation to the mother of love Whose misconception was immaculate, And when her time was come she misconceived. II. Thine incarnation was upon this wise, Saviour; and out of east and west were led To thy foul cradle by thy planet red Shepherds of souls that feed their sheep with lies Till the utter soul die as the body dies, And the wise men that ask but to be fed Though the hot shambles be their board and bed And sleep on any dunghill shut their eyes, So they lie warm and fatten in the mire; And the high priest enthroned yet in thy name, Judas, baptised thee with men's blood for hire; And now thou hangest nailed to thine own shame In sight of all time, but while heaven has flame Shalt find no resurrection from hell-fire. @3December, 1869.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE BALLAD OF JUDAS ISCARIOT by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN AFTER THE WINTER by CLAUDE MCKAY RECONCILIATION by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL ANNIVERS: BAPTISMI by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 24, ASKING FOR HER HEART (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |