Classic Poem

Who think of charity as milky-eyed
Know not of God's great handmaid's terrible name,
Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed,
And crowned and winged and charioted with flame.

For Truth and Justice ride abroad with her,
And Honour's trumpets peal before her face:
The high archangels stand and minister
When she doth sit within her holy place.

None knoweth in the depth nor in the height
What meaneth Charity, God's secret word,
But kiss her feet, and veil their burning sight
Before her naked heart, her naked sword.