28.10.2007, 13:37
A VISION OF PAIN.
FRAUGHT with sad benediction, as the leaves
Of night-fed Upas in the midmost climes
Each morning's blessingmay dispense betimes,
His palsied fingers span the crowd that heaves
Beneath, and, madly restless, idly grieves
Because its joys are lesser than its crimes ;
His speech is rhythmic with a strange sea's chimes,
And all his tropes are soul-incantatives.
O mystery of kingship that he wears
On throne of sacrifice, to right the wrong !
For love of him the poet takes his cares
And with baptismal sacrament calls them song,
And yearningly saints kiss his sceptral rod,
At sight of eyes that shine like tears of God !
FRAUGHT with sad benediction, as the leaves
Of night-fed Upas in the midmost climes
Each morning's blessingmay dispense betimes,
His palsied fingers span the crowd that heaves
Beneath, and, madly restless, idly grieves
Because its joys are lesser than its crimes ;
His speech is rhythmic with a strange sea's chimes,
And all his tropes are soul-incantatives.
O mystery of kingship that he wears
On throne of sacrifice, to right the wrong !
For love of him the poet takes his cares
And with baptismal sacrament calls them song,
And yearningly saints kiss his sceptral rod,
At sight of eyes that shine like tears of God !