Eight Harvard Poets/A Crucifix

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Eight Harvard Poets A Crucifix by R. S. Mitchell

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A CRUCIFIX THIS was the cross of God on which men's eyes Dwelt with the love of dead divinity,     As they who by the desolate orient sea In battle made their sainted sacrifice, Dreaming their boundless striving should devise     A symbol whereby men might know that he     Who wins his way on earth to victory, Thus in his consummated sorrow dies. All things are sacred to that tender sight:     Time's ancient altars whence strange incense curled Innocent to the unknown gods; the light     Of love is thine; faith's banner is unfurled, Even where the farthest watchmen, through the night,     Call on the cloud-wrapped ramparts of the world.