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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506360" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Confessional, The</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">[SPAIN.]</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><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=506360" data-title="Confessional, The de Robert Browning" data-description="[SPAIN.]

	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 ..."></div>
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