Classic Poem

O nameless warrior, whose feet
Have borne thee to thy goal,
Pray thou for me, while dust and heat
Lie heavy on my soul!

Here, in what heritage of ease,
The years give rest to them,
Because of old thy crossèd knees
Knelt in Jerusalem!

And tell me, were the gates of pear?
And were the streets of gold?
And did the Tree of Life unfurl
Leaves lovely to behold?

Shone she with jewels round about
Her deeply-founded wall,
Making her very stones cry out
Of Love who died for all?

And did the vision of that Mount
Kindle in thee such flame
That Grief forgot her old account
When home the warrior came?

And did the face of past desire
Seem then an empty show,
Giving to lips which once were fire
A form more white than snow?

O dear acquaintance of that spot,
Befriend an exile's prayer!
So shall the heart that sees it not
Be as it had been there.

Let far-off good which was my trust
Bring healing to mine eyes,
Or make me even as the dust
In Holy Land that lies!