“Bacchus! The Jew knew how to die. The nails Were blunt. He neither railed nor cursed. Even the sturdy thief had called him ‘Lord’”. At the ninth hour there came the cry, “I thirst”.
The Roman held the vinegar to his lips, And looked with pity on His dying Face. O Unknown Soldier, pray for me to give My love’s poor wine, and give it with such grace.
THE FALLOW FIELDS
LET the fields lie fallow Bare and brown. Let the great winds stride over them And the snow come down.
Let them lie open to the sun To the patient rain, And the dews whiten them E’er they yield again.
Plough in the sturdy weed, The common flower, Let their wild vigor yield A lusty dower.
Then after sun and snow After dew and sleet From the earth will spring the green Flame of the wheat.