Classic Poem

In desolate dreams, whose memory terrific
Will haunt me to my life's unhappy close,
The ghost of Christ, our Savior beatific,
Disconsolately rose!

Sad years have flown, but still to me are vivid
The angry fevers in His piercing eyes,
As He before me stood, erect and livid,
But Godlike in no wise.

The bleeding palms and feet, the blond beard tangled,
Were changed not since the dolorous day of death;
I saw the thorn-pressed brow, the lean side mangled,
And heard His hot, quick breath!

But marked with stupor that no sign of meekness
Dwelt in that face, still marvelously fair,
And that His lips were curled in scornful weakness,
While no prayer lingered there.

And He, whose pure, imperishable glory
The fears of men for ages did assuage,
He, the unique, the sweet, the salvatory,
Stood pallid in strong rage.

And with vindictive voice upon me calling,
This poor Redeemer, bartered, murdered, sold,
To me, mute, shivering mortal, an appalling
And hideous story told.

Which, were it known, and could mankind conceive it,
This strange weird vision most sublimely sad,
Would fill with awe the minds that dared believe it,
And make whole nations mad.

For in this tale of sacrifice and error,
Monstrous narration of bewildering things,
I understood at last Christ's pain and terror,
His unknown sufferings!

With words that scorched like fire my very being,
As I before him palpitantly sighed,
He cried out loudly: “Man, thou now art seeing
One that was crucified!

“I tell to thee, and verily, oh dreamer,
By all the gory horror of my brow,
That I, God's Son, was loftier and supremer
On earth than I am now!

“For I, like thee, once knew rare dreams Elysian,
When, a pure child, dim centuries ago,
I first beheld in sleep a dazzling vision,
And heard a voice say low:

“‘Arise, thou chosen of the Lord! and ponder
On these my dictates, upon these my words.
The breath of Heaven is in thee; rise and wander
Forth among beasts and birds.

“‘Preach unto man my laws humane and holy,
For thou of earth are not, but most divine;
Preach on the gold of thrones, in hamlets lowly,
The grandeur which is mine.

“‘Be faithful, meek and chaste; the power is given
To thee even now all souls to blindly sway;
While God, omniscient in the heart of Heaven,
Will guide thee on thy way.

“‘More than a king, gem-crowned, in Syrian raiment,
Greater than worshiped prophets wilt thou be,
For thou shalt never die, nor will base payment
Be even taken of thee.