Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

Condemned - Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

From Caiphas to Pilate I was sent,
Who judged with unwashed hands a crime to me.
Next came the sentence, and the soldiery
Claimed me their prey. Without, the people rent
With weeping voices the loud firmament.
And through the night from town to town passed we
Mid shouts and drums and stones hurled heavily
By angry crowds on love and murder bent.

And last the gaol.--What stillness in these doors!
The silent turnkeys their last bolts have shot,
And their steps die in the long corridors.
I am alone. My tears run fast and hot.
Dear Lord, for Thy grief's sake I kiss these floors
Kneeling; then turn to sleep, dreams trouble not.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010



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