Friendless and faint, with martyred steps and slow, <br />Faint for the flesh, but for the spirit free, <br />Stung by the mob that came to see the show, <br />The Master toiled along to Calvary; <br />We gibed him, as he went, with houndish glee, <br />Till his dimmed eyes for us did overflow; <br />We cursed his vengeless hands thrice wretchedly, -- <br />And this was nineteen hundred years ago. <br /> <br />But after nineteen hundred years the shame <br />Still clings, and we have not made good the loss <br />That outraged faith has entered in his name. <br />Ah, when shall come love's courage to be strong! <br />Tell me, O Lord -- tell me, O Lord, how long <br />Are we to keep Christ writhing on the cross!<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/calvary/
