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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116224" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Confessional</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a lie—their Priests, their Pope,<br>Their Saints, their . . . all they fear or hope<br>Are lies, and lies—there! through my door<br>And ceiling, there! and walls and floor,<br>There, lies, they lie—shall still be hurled<br>Till spite of them I reach the world!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You think Priests just and holy men!<br>Before they put me in this den<br>I was a human creature too,<br>With flesh and blood like one of you,<br>A girl that laughed in beauty's pride<br>Like lilies in your world outside.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had a lover—shame avaunt!<br>This poor wrenched body, grim and gaunt,<br>Was kissed all over till it burned,<br>By lips the truest, love e'er turned<br>His heart's own tint: one night they kissed<br>My soul out in a burning mist.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, next day when the accustomed train<br>Of things grew round my sense again,<br>"That is a sin," I said: and slow<br>With downcast eyes to church I go,<br>And pass to the confession-chair,<br>And tell the old mild father there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when I falter Beltran's name,<br>"Ha?" quoth the father; "much I blame<br>"The sin; yet wherefore idly grieve?<br>"Despair not—strenuously retrieve!<br>"Nay, I will turn this love of thine<br>"To lawful love, almost divine;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"For he is young, and led astray,<br>"This Beltran, and he schemes, men say,<br>"To change the laws of church and state<br>"So, thine shall be an angel's fate,<br>"Who, ere the thunder breaks, should roll<br>"Its cloud away and save his soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"For, when he lies upon thy breast,<br>"Thou mayst demand and be possessed<br>"Of all his plans, and next day steal<br>"To me, and all those plans reveal,<br>"That I and every priest, to purge<br>"His soul, may fast and use the scourge."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That father's beard was long and white,<br>With love and truth his brow seemed bright;<br>I went back, all on fire with joy,<br>And, that same evening, bade the boy<br>Tell me, as lovers should, heart-free,<br>Something to prove his love of me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He told me what he would not tell<br>For hope of heaven or fear of hell;<br>And I lay listening in such pride!<br>And, soon as he had left my side,<br>Tripped to the church by morning-light<br>To save his soul in his despite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I told the father all his schemes,<br>Who were his comrades, what their dreams;<br>"And now make haste," I said, "to pray<br>"The one spot from his soul away;<br>"To-night he comes, but not the same<br>"Will look!" At night he never came.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor next night: on the after-morn,<br>I went forth with a strength new-born.<br>The church was empty; something drew<br>My steps into the street; I knew<br>It led me to the market-place:<br>Where, lo, on high, the father's face!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That horrible black scaffold dressed,<br>That stapled block . . . God sink the rest!<br>That head strapped back, that blinding vest,<br>Those knotted hands and naked breast,<br>Till near one busy hangman pressed,<br>And, on the neck these arms caressed . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No part in aught they hope or fear!<br>No heaven with them, no hell!—and here,<br>No earth, not so much space as pens<br>My body in their worst of dens<br>But shall bear God and man my cry,<br>Lies—lies, again—and still, they lie!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Browning">Robert Browning</a> from <i>Dramatic Romances and Lyrics</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116224" data-title="The Confessional de Robert Browning" data-description="I/It is a lie—their Priests, their Pope,/Their Saints, their . . . all they fear or hope/Are lies, and lies—there! through my door/And ceiling, there! and walls and floor,/There, lies, they lie—shall still be hurled/Till spite of them I reac..."></div>
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