Alice Meynell: Easter Night

All night had shout of men, and cry
         Of woeful women filled His way;
Until that noon of sombre sky
         On Friday, clamour and display
Smote Him; no solitude had He,
No silence, since Gethsemane.

Public was Death; but Power, but Might,
         But Life again, but Victory,
Were hushed within the dead of night,
         The shutter'd dark, the secrecy.
And all alone, alone, alone,
He rose again behind the stone.

[Poems, ed. Wilfrid Meynell, p. 94.]

(See The Poems of Alice Meynell.)

Lane Core Jr. CIW P — Sat. 04/19/03 07:03:23 AM
Categorized as Religious.

John Donne: Holy Sonnets XI

Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,
For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee,
Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety:
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucifie him daily, being now glorified;
Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:
God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so
Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.

[The Complete English Poems, ed. C. A. Patrides, p. 441.]

(See also modernized.)

Lane Core Jr. CIW P — Sat. 04/19/03 06:53:10 AM
Categorized as Religious.