TURN not the prophet's page, O Son! He knew <br />All that Thou hast to suffer, and hath writ. <br />Not yet Thine hour of knowledge. Infinite <br />The sorrows that Thy manhood's lot must rue <br />And dire acquaintance of Thy grief. That clue <br />The spirits of Thy mournful ministerings <br />Seek through yon scroll in silence. For these things <br />The angels have desired to look into. <br />Still before Eden waves the fiery sword,— <br />Her Tree of Life unransomed: whose sad Tree <br />Of Knowledge yet to growth of Calvary <br />Must yield its Tempter,—Hell the earliest dead <br />Of Earth resign,—and yet, O Son and Lord, <br />The seed o' the woman bruise the serpent's head.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-the-holy-family-by-michelangelo/
