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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374823" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Unredeemed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw the Christ down from His cross, <br>A tragic man lean-limbed and tall, <br>But weighed with suffering and loss. <br>His back was to a broken wall, <br>And out upon the tameless world <br>Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye <br>Beheld the towns to ruin hurled, <br>And saw the storm of death pass by. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two thousand years it was since first <br>He offered to the race of men <br>His sovran boon, As one accurst <br>They nailed Him to the jibbet then, <br>And while they mocked Him for their mirth <br>He smiled, and from the hill of pain <br>To all the hating tribes of earth <br>Held forth His wondrous gift again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day the thorns were on His brow, <br>His grief was deeper than before. <br>From ravaged field and city now <br>Arose the screams and reek of war. <br>The black smoke parted. Through the rift <br>God's sun fell on the b1oody lands. <br>Christ wept, for still His priceless gift <br>He held within His wounded hands.<br>Xxxx</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Living Picture<br>He rode along one splendid noon, <br>When all the hills were lit with Spring, <br>And through the bushland throbbed a croon <br>Of every living, hopeful thing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Between his teeth a rose he bore <br>As white as milk, and passing there <br>He tossed it with a laugh. I wore <br>It as it fell among my hair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No day a-drip with golden rain, <br>No heat with drench of wattle scent <br>Can touch the heart of me again <br>But with that young, sweet wonder blent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We wed upon a gusty day, <br>When baffled fury whipped the sea; <br>And now I love the swift, wet play <br>Of wind and rain besetting me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I took white roses in my hand, <br>A white rose on my forehead shone, <br>For we had come to understand <br>White roses bloomed for us alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When scarce a year had gone he sped <br>To fight the wars. With eyes grown grim <br>He kissed my lips, and whispering said: <br>“The world we must keep sweet for him!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He wrote of war, the soldier's life. <br>“'Tis hard, my dearest, but be brave. <br>I did not make my love my wife <br>To be the mother of a slave!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My babe was born a boy. He had <br>His father's eyes, his smile, his hair, <br>And, oh, my soul was brimming glad— <br>It seemed his father's self was there! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now came one who bade me still <br>In holy Heaven put my trust. <br>They'd laid my love beneath the hill, <br>And sealed his eyes with timeless dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against my breast the babe I drew, <br>With strength from him to stay my fears. <br>I fought my fight the long days through; <br>He laughed and dabbled in my tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From my poor heart, at which it fed <br>With tiger teeth, I thrust despair, <br>And faced a world with shadow spread <br>And only echoes in the air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The winter waned. One eve I went, <br>Led by a kindly hand to see <br>In moving scenes the churches rent, <br>The tumbled hill, the blasted lee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of soldiers resting by the road, <br>Who smoked and drowsed, a muddy rout, <br>One sprang alert, and forward strode, <br>With eager eyes to seek us out. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">His fingers held a rose. He threw <br>The flower, and waved his cap. In me <br>A frenzy of assurance grew, <br>For, O dear God, 'twas he! 'twas he! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I called aloud. Aloft my child <br>I held, and nearer yet he came; <br>And when he understood and smiled, <br>My baby lisped his father's name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They say I fell like something dead, <br>But when I woke to morning's glow <br>My boy sat by me on the bed, <br>And in his hand a rose of snow!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><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=374823" data-title="Unredeemed de Edward George Dyson" data-description="I saw the Christ down from His cross, 
A tragic man lean-limbed and tall, 
But weighed with suffering and loss. 
His back was to a broken wall, 
And out upon the tameless world 
Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye 
Beheld the towns to ruin hurled,..."></div>
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