William R. Suda III
The Holy Lance - Poem by William R. Suda III
Their souls will ever dance,
As they kiss the Holy Lance;
With lips that touch and go in delight;
Not daring to imagine their might.
They wait with glinting eyes;
As the seraphs sallee in the mist,
Nestles as a delicate bossom sighs,
And awaits the angels' kiss.
By Peter's vision of the site,
Lionheart renewed the holy fight,
To conquer the infidel,
And the bastion Antioch fell.
The onus is with the shade,
As the copious tears are shed;
When mournful count is made,
Of the fallen valiant dead.
The double-bladed axe of fate,
Asks not if the lady of luck is in,
But only if they have a date,
Without mortal sin.
Comments about The Holy Lance by William R. Suda III
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
William R. Suda III's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye