Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/13

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CHRISTINA.


Father, when I am in my grave, kind Father,
Take thou this cross,—I had it from a girl,—
Take it to one that I will tell thee of,—
Unto Christina.

I may not part with it while I have life;
I kept it by me, treasured it through years
Of evil, when I dared not look upon it:
But of the love and reconciling mercy
Whereof it is a token, now it speaks.
Sore bitten by the fiery flying serpent,
Yet have I strength to raise my languid eyes,
And fix them on that sign, for sin uplift
Within the wilderness, and there my gaze—
My straining gaze—will fasten to the last,
Death-glazed, upon it. Oh! may then my soul
Be drawn up after it unperishing!

Thou knowest of my life, that I have been
Saved as by fire,—a brand plucked from the burning;
But not before the breath of flame had passed
On all my garments, not before my spirit