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Sonnet

Rating: 2.8

CHRIST, dost thou live indeed? or are thy bones
Still straightened in their rock-hewn sepulchre?
And was thy Rising only dreamed by Her
Whose love of thee for all her sin atones?
For here the air is horrid with men's groans,
The priests who call upon thy name are slain,
Dost thou not hear the bitter wail of pain
From those whose children lie upon the stones?
Come down, O Son of God! incestuous gloom
Curtains the land, and through the starless night
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COMMENTS
Subhas Chandra Chakra 02 September 2016
O Son of God! incestuous gloom Curtains the land, and through the starless night Over thy Cross the Crescent moon Beautiful poem.
1 0 Reply

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