| |
| THE VERY roses, thick with bloom, | |
| Are golden in the golden light; | |
| What sanctifies that belt of gloom? | |
| What makes this court so bright? | |
| |
| Are other pillars half so rich, | 5 |
| So dainty delicate as these, | |
| Which curl and twist like woodland niche | |
| Set in a frame of trees! | |
| |
| Two legendary stones are here, | |
| And cast a mystery round the spot; | 10 |
| Let none to whom his Lord is dear | |
| Say, he believes them not! | |
| |
| Behold the well where Jesus stayed, | |
| (The heart which questioned also nigh!) | |
| And, “wearied with his journey” bade | 15 |
| To fountains never dry. | |
| |
| Until for her who stood beside, | |
| His words alone sufficed, | |
| And as she went her way, she cried, | |
| “But is not this the Christ?” | 20 |
| |
| See measured on that pillar’s round | |
| The stature of his sacred head; | |
| Let that be counted holy ground | |
| Of which such things are said. | |
| |
| And do not weigh what men believe, | 25 |
| When thus from age to age is told | |
| A tale which eager hearts receive | |
| With love that grows not cold. | |
| |
| A garden blessed by many prayers, | |
| And centuries of sacred fame, | 30 |
| A pilgrim’s tender footstep spares, | |
| If only for the claim! | |
| |
| So pluck the golden Lateran rose | |
| Which blooms about each ancient stone;— | |
| And faith which towards a legend flows | 35 |
| Shall not be left alone! | |
| |
