Classic Poem

And all the while they mocked him and reviled,
And heaped upon him words of infamy,
He stood serenely there, and only smiled
In pity at the blind intensity
Of hate; for well he knew that Love alone
Can cure the ills of men — of nations, too —
Though unregenerate mobs their prophets stone,
And crucify the gentle Christ anew.
So he but smiled, and drained with quiet grace
The bitter cup for lips too eloquent,
And, dauntless, took the soul-degrading place
Designed for thieves — this Prophet heaven-sent!
And when the throng at length had hushed its cry,
Another cross loomed dark against the sky.

And all the while they mocked him and reviled,
And heaped upon him words of infamy,
He stood serenely there, and only smiled
In pity at the blind intensity
Of hate; for well he knew that Love alone
Can cure the ills of men — of nations, too —
Though unregenerate mobs their prophets stone,
And crucify the gentle Christ anew.
So he but smiled, and drained with quiet grace
The bitter cup for lips too eloquent,
And, dauntless, took the soul-degrading place
Designed for thieves — this Prophet heaven-sent!
And when the throng at length had hushed its cry,
Another cross loomed dark against the sky.