Читать книгу Poems of Adoration - Michael Field E. - Страница 11

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KING of Kings, Thou comest down the street

To my door ...

As from ankles of the heavenly feet

Of wild angels, tinkling pedals sweet,

And sweet bells;

As if water-carriers from bright wells

Jangled freshets to a dewless land,

Thou art called upon the air,

As Thou mountest to me, stair by stair:

In my presence Thou dost stand,

And Thou comest to me on my bed....

Lord, I live and am not dead!

I should be dead—

I, a sinner! And Thou comest swift....

Woe, to wake such love to roam about,

Wandering the street to find me out,

Bringing wholesome balm for gift,

As, in contrariety,

Come to Magdalen, not she,

O Pure, to Thee!