Читать книгу Collected Poems: Volume Two - Alfred Noyes - Страница 36

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As earth, sad earth, thrusts many a gloomy cape

Into the sea's bright colour and living glee,

So do we strive to embay that mystery

Which earthly hands must ever let escape;

The Word we seek for is the golden shape

That shall enshrine the Soul we cannot see,

A temporal chalice of Eternity

Purple with beating blood of the hallowed grape.

Once was it wine and sacramental bread

Whereby we knew the power that through Him smiled

When, in one still small utterance, He hurled

The Eternities beneath His feet and said

With lips, O meek as any little child,

Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.