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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=118224" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Easter Day (Naples, 1849)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the great sinful streets of Naples as I past,<br>With fiercer heat than flamed above my head<br>My heart was hot within me; till at last<br>My brain was lightened, when my tongue had said<br>Christ is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Christ is not risen, no,<br>He lies and moulders low;<br>Christ is not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What though the stone were rolled away, and though<br>The grave found empty there?<br>If not there, then elsewhere;<br>If not where Joseph laid Him first, why then<br>Where other men<br>Translaid Him after; in some humbler clay<br>Long ere to-day<br>Corruption that sad perfect work hath done,<br>Which here she scarcely, lightly had begun.<br>The foul engendered worm<br>Feeds on the flesh of the life-giving form<br>Of our most Holy and Anointed One.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is not risen, no,<br>He lies and moulders low;<br>Christ is not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What if the women, ere the dawn was grey,<br>Saw one or more great angels, as they say,<br>(Angels, or Him himself)? Yet neither there, nor then,<br>Nor afterward, nor elsewhere, nor at all,<br>Hath He appeared to Peter or the Ten;<br>Nor, save in thunderous terror, to blind Saul;<br>Save in an after-Gospel and late Creed<br>He is not risen indeed,<br>Christ is not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or what if e’en, as runs the tale, the Ten<br>Saw, heard, and touched, again and yet again?<br>What if at Emmaüs’ inn and by Capernaum’s Lake<br>Came One the bread that brake<br>Came One that spake as never mortal spake,<br>And with them ate and drank and stood and walked about?<br>Ah! ‘some’ did well to ‘doubt’!<br>Ah! the true Christ, while these things came to pass,<br>Nor heard, nor spake, nor walked, nor dreamt, alas!<br>He was not risen, no<br>He lay and moulder low,<br>Christ was not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As circulates in some great city crowd<br>A rumour changeful, vague, importunate, and loud,<br>From no determined centre, or of fact,<br>Or authorship exact,<br>Which no man can deny<br>Nor verify;<br>So spread the wondrous fame;<br>He all the same<br>Lay senseless, mouldering, low.<br>He was not risen, no<br>Christ was not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;<br>As of the unjust, also of the just<br>Yea, of that Just One too.<br>This is the one sad Gospel that is true<br>Christ is not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is He not risen, and shall we not rise?<br>Oh, we unwise!<br>What did we dream, what wake we to discover?<br>Ye hills, fall on us, and ye mountains, cover!<br>In darkness and great gloom<br>Come ere we thought it is our day of doom,<br>From the cursed world which is one tomb,<br>Christ is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eat, drink, and play, and think that this is bliss:<br>There is no Heaven but this;<br>There is no Hell;<br>Save Earth, which serves the purpose doubly well,<br>Seeing it visits still<br>With equallest apportionment of ill<br>Both good and bad alike, and brings to one same dust<br>The unjust and the just<br>With Christ, who is not risen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Eat, drink, and die, for we are souls bereaved<br>Of all the creatures under heaven’s wide cope<br>We are most hopeless, who had once most hope,<br>And most beliefless, that had most believed.<br>Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;<br>As of the unjust, also of the just<br>Yea, of that just One too!<br>It is the one sad Gospel that is true<br>Christ is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weep not beside the tomb,<br>Ye women, unto whom<br>He was great solace while ye tended Him;<br>Ye who with napkin o’er the head<br>And folds of linen round each wounded limb<br>Laid out the Sacred Dead;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou that bar’st Him in thy wondering womb;<br>Yea, Daughters of Jerusalem, depart,<br>Bind up as best ye may your own sad bleeding heart:<br>Go to your homes, your living children tend,<br>Your earthly spouses love;<br>Set your affections not on things above,<br>Which moth and rust corrupt, which quickliest come to end:<br>Or pray, if pray ye must, and pray, if pray ye can,<br>For death; since dead is He whom ye deemed more than man,<br>Who is not risen: no<br>But lies and moulders low<br>Who is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye men of Galilee!<br>Why stand ye looking up to heaven, where Him ye ne’er may see,<br>Neither ascending hence, nor returning hither again?<br>Ye ignorant and idle fishermen!<br>Hence to your huts, and boats, and inland native shore,<br>And catch not men, but fish;<br>Whate’er things ye might wish,<br>Him neither here nor there ye e’er shall meet with more.<br>Ye poor deluded youths, go home,<br>Mend the old nets ye left to roam,<br>Tie the split oar, patch the torn sail:<br>It was indeed an ‘idle tale’<br>He was not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, oh, good men of ages yet to be,<br>Who shall believe because ye did not see<br>Oh, be ye warned, be wise!<br>No more with pleading eyes,<br>And sobs of strong desire,<br>Unto the empty vacant void aspire,<br>Seeking another and impossible birth<br>That is not of your own, and only mother earth.<br>But if there is no other life for you,<br>Sit down and be content, since this must even do:<br>He is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One look, and then depart,<br>Ye humble and ye holy men of heart;<br>And ye I ye ministers and stewards of a Word<br>Which ye would preach, because another heard<br>Ye worshippers of that ye do not know,<br>Take these things hence and go:<br>He is not risen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, on our Easter Day<br>We rise, we come, and lo! we find Him not,<br>Gardener nor other, on the sacred spot:<br>Where they have laid Him there is none to say;<br>No sound, nor in, nor out no word<br>Of where to seek the dead or meet the living Lord.<br>There is no glistering of an angel’s wings,<br>There is no voice of heavenly clear behest:<br>Let us go hence, and think upon these things<br>In silence, which is best.<br>Is He not risen? No<br>But lies and moulders low?<br>Christ is not risen?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Hugh+Clough">Arthur Hugh Clough</a><div class=q>
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