Miracles

Doubt no longer miracles,
This spring day makes it plain
A man may crumble into dust
And straightway live again

A jug of water in the sun
Will easy turn to wine
If love is stopping at the well
And love's brown arms entwine.

And you who think him only man,
I tell you faithfully
That I have seen Christ clothed in rain
Walking on the sea.
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