A Catechism

What is thy name?



Gave thee that name?

Those from whose seed I grew,
He from whose loins I sprang, she in whose warm
Womb I grew shapen into flesh and form, —
Whereby I first did crawl, then walked upright
A child, inheritor of Life and Light.

What did thy Father and Mother then for thee?

Proem to the Shadow of the Sword

Nineteen sad sleepless centuries
Had shed upon the dead C HRIST 's eyes
Dark blood and dew, and o'er them still
The waxen lids were sealed chill.
Drearily through the dreary years
The world had waited on in tears,
With heart clay-cold and eyelids wet,
But He had not arisen yet.
Nay, Christ was cold; and, colder still,
The lovely Shapes He came to kill
Slept by His side. Ah, sight of dread!
Dead C HRIST , and all the sweet gods dead!
He had not risen, tho' all the world
Was waiting; tho', with thin lips curl'd,

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