From Caiphas to Pilate I was sent, <br />Who judged with unwashed hands a crime to me. <br />Next came the sentence, and the soldiery <br />Claimed me their prey. Without, the people rent <br />With weeping voices the loud firmament. <br />And through the night from town to town passed we <br />Mid shouts and drums and stones hurled heavily <br />By angry crowds on love and murder bent. <br /> <br />And last the gaol.--What stillness in these doors! <br />The silent turnkeys their last bolts have shot, <br />And their steps die in the long corridors. <br />I am alone. My tears run fast and hot. <br />Dear Lord, for Thy grief's sake I kiss these floors <br />Kneeling; then turn to sleep, dreams trouble not.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/condemned-18/
