His Lady of the Sonnets

by Robert Winkworth Norwood

POSCA

The light within the sky was growing dim.
Death-white, a thorn-crowned face looked from a cross
And watched with dying eyes the soldiers toss
Dice for the seamless robe they stripped from Him;
And of that number there was one who first
Was touched with pity for Him hanging there,
And ran a sponge of vinegar to bear,
When in His anguish Jesus said: "I thirst!"

O nameless soldier of the long ago,
Yours was the doing of a deathless deed;
Who braved the people passing to and fro,
And gave to Christ the sponge upon a reed
The while His own disciples standing near,
Dismayed, moved not to help Him in their fear.

REINCARNATION

I saw three souls before a jasper throne
That stood, star-canopied, beyond the world
Where angels knelt before a Presence—furled
White wings and waited. In vast undertone
A Voice said: "Choose!" And instantly were shown
Three chalices: one like a lily curled
About a stem of gold; one was empearled
In silver; one was carved from common stone.

I saw three souls sink swiftly back to earth;
I heard three children wailing in the night;
I met three men of diverse rank and birth:
A king; a priest; a slave whose wretched plight
Moved me to pity, till mine ancient dream
Recalled the proverb: "Things are not what they seem!"

JACOB'S DREAM

Lonely and worn by day's dull toil and heat,
Life lay before me stark, and dead, and drear;
Night had engulfed the desert, and a fear
Was on me as of slow, resistless feet
Of foes invisible, from whom retreat
Denied me respite! I knew the moment near—
Jehovah's hand uplifted, and His spear
Down-glancing through the dark my heart to meet;