Sunday, March 3, 2024

At Easter

At Easter by Kate A. Bradley

I wonder if the anguished moon looked
down
Through all that long last night
And buried in her scarred breast, lean and
brown,
The memory of that sight!
I wonder of th' uneasy birds awoke
As glowed that strange, great light
Which paled the purple east where morn-
ing broke.
And sang, inspired by God's own breath,
"There is no death! There is no death!" 

There is no death, O hearts that throb in
vain
With longing, pulsing tide,
Or in love's fullness, nigh akin to pain,
Unfearing abide;
There is no death, O soul whom niggard
fate
Has left unsatisfied.
The cycles swing and joy those lips await
Who oft have sung on earth in pain,
"I rise again! I rise again!"

No sacrifice, O Self, can blot thee out,
Or satisfy the debt
Which binds thee to the usurer of doubt
With interest of regret!
Still is not life to even thee denied:
One way remaineth yet-
As was thy Christ, must thou be crucified.
But with those wounds in hands and feet,
E'en Self finds resurrection sweet!

Rejoice, O soul whose work is just begun,
That all time lies before!
Rejoice, O heart whose treasure all have
won
That dimmer, farther shore!
The stone that angels moved away that
night
Was rolled from Heaven's door;
Awake and stand forth in hope's sudden
 light,
And sing as sang the birds that morn:
"There is no death, for Life is born!"

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for your thoughts. All comments are moderated.