Sometimes in morning sunlights by the river <br /> Where in the early fall long grasses wave, <br />Light winds from over the moorland sink and shiver <br /> And sigh as if just blown across a grave. <br /> <br />And then I pause and listen to this sighing. <br /> I look with strange eyes on the well-known stream. <br />I hear wild birth-cries uttered by the dying. <br /> I know men waking who appear to dream. <br /> <br />Then from the water-lilies slow uprises <br /> The still vast face of all the life I know, <br />Changed now, and full of wonders and surprises, <br /> With fire in eyes that once were glazed with snow. <br /> <br />Fair now the brows old Pain had erewhile wrinkled, <br /> And peace and strength about the calm mouth dwell. <br />Clean of the ashes that Repentance sprinkled, <br /> The meek head poises like a flower-bell. <br /> <br />All the old scars of wanton wars are vanished; <br /> And what blue bruises grappling Sense had left <br />And sad remains of redder stains are banished, <br /> And the dim blotch of heart-committed theft. <br /> <br />O still vast vision of transfigured features <br /> Unvisited by secret crimes or dooms, <br />Remain, remain amid these water-creatures, <br /> Stand, shine among yon water-lily blooms. <br /> <br />For eighteen centuries ripple down the river, <br /> And windy times the stalks of empires wave, <br />-- Let the winds come from the moor and sigh and shiver, <br /> Fain, fain am I, O Christ, to pass the grave.<br /><br />Sidney Lanier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/resurrection-3/
