Classic Poem

It was a girl of Magdala,
And she was young, and very fair.
Like to a poppy bud her mouth,
And like spun gold her hair.

She dwelt in Hierusalem
And Mary was the damsel's name;
Her nights were spent in revelry,
And all her days in shame.

Whenas she rose at set of sun
And turned the drunken judas out,
She donned her scarlet raiment, and
Made ready for the rout.

With crimson dyes she touched her cheeks,
She dressed her hair with garlands gay,
And then once more she fared forth
To walk her evil way.

She sought the crowded city's streets,
Filled full with noisy revellers;
And as she passed men spake upon
The beauty that was hers.

And eagerly some clutched her arm,
And whispered rude words in her ear;
And with rude words she answered them —
Knowing nor shame nor fear.

Hard was her heart, and heavy too,
As through the lighted ways she fared.
(She hated all men bitterly,
And told them — when she dared.)

She trafficked in the open streets,
For all she loved was shining gold,
And wantonly she offered there
Her beauty to be sold.

Good women drew their Robes aside,
And old men cursed her as she passed,
Until, with eager feet, she gained
The market place at last.

Hard by a vintner cried his wares.
She snatched a cup and drained it dry —
And as she drained, and drank again,
The gentle Christ drew nigh.

The dear Lord Christ drew nigh, and stopped,
And spoke to her with tender mien:
" God's grace be with thee, child, " he said
To Mary Magdalene.

The wanton heard him with amaze,
As one who hears some new, strange thing,
And, lo, it seemed that in her heart
A bird began to sing!

She stood a moment thus, and then
She laughed in scornful merriment,
And ribaldly she mouthed at him
As on his way he went.

Then suddenly she ceased, and gazed
Adown the way that Christ had gone;
And then, with tear-dimmed eyes, she turned
And went toward home — alone.