Digby Mackworth Dolben

* * *

Methought, through many years and lands,
 I sped along an arrowy flood,
That leapt and lapt my face and hands,
 I knew not were it fire or blood.

I saw no sun in any place;
 A ghastly glow about me spread,
Unlike the light of nights and days,
 From out the depth where writhe the dead.

I passed—their fleshless arms uprose
 To draw me to the depths beneath:
My eyes forgot the power to close,
 As other men's, in sleep or death.

I saw the end of every sin;
 I weighed the profit and the cost;
I felt Eternity begin,
 And all the ages of the lost.

The Crucifix was on my breast;
 I pressed the nails against my side;
And unto Him, Who knew no rest
 For thirty years, I turned and cried:

'Sweet Lord! I say not, give me ease;
 Do what Thou wilt, Thou doest good;
And all Thy saints went up to peace,
 In crowns of fire or robes of blood.'