Classic Poem

Ah, madman that I am! Thou canst not save me!
For I know all , Christ! Thou hast not the power
To stay the simple wilting of a flower,
Or give unto the utter doomed an hour!
Death, death alone is great, and he can brave me!

Ah why, my Savior, didst thou strangely take me
From dire annihilation's utter rest,
Urged by my sister's sorrowing request?
Why, when the napkin on my brow was pressed,
Didst thou remove it, only to forsake me?

Ah! Death is sweeter than these living terrors,
Haunted by hopelessness. I move afraid!
Why for such torment was my spirit made?
Why, oh Redeemer, having greatly prayed,
Didst thou commit for me such harrowing errors?

I love life now! I loath to leave the splendor
Of birdful groves and plains beloved of flowers;
I venerate the olive glades and bowers,
And the fair sight of ivy-girdled towers
Thrills me as would a woman's accents tender.

I love the languors of the land Judean,
I love the sky when clouds or tempests pass,
I love the tangled emerald of its grass,
And all that moves or breathes therein. Alas!
I now must die again, oh Galilean!

I love to see all nature warm and glorious
Glow in the fecund pomp of autumn sheaves,
Fair in her redolent robes of rustling leaves,
Nature, that ever blossoms and conceives,
Life over death, exultant and victorious.

Ah! if all things in mystic ways could borrow
The secret I have sternly kept, the trees
Would swoon and wither, and the weary breeze
Would die despondent, and caressing seas
Would lave sad shores no longer in their sorrow.

Each man on earth would shrink in consternation,
Death would be feared, and God less loved than now;
No head would in Jehovan temples bow;
Men would respect no faith, no creed, no vow,
When having heard my mighty revelation!