'No man ever attained supreme knowledge, unless his heart had been <br />torn up by the roots.' <br /> <br /> <br />When I presage the time shall come--yea, now <br />Perchance is come, when you shall fail from me, <br />Because the mighty spirit, to whom you vow <br />Faith of kin genius unrebukably, <br />Scourges my sloth, and from your side dismissed <br />Henceforth this sad and most, most lonely soul <br />Must, marching fatally through pain and mist, <br />The God-bid levy of its powers enrol; <br />When I presage that none shall hear the voice <br />From the great Mount that clangs my ordained advance, <br />That sullen envy bade the churlish choice <br />Yourself shall say, and turn your altered glance; <br />O God! Thou knowest if this heart of flesh <br />Quivers like broken entrails, when the wheel <br />Rolleth some dog in middle street, or fresh <br />Fruit when ye tear it bleeding from the peel; <br />If my soul cries the uncomprehended cry <br />When the red agony oozed on Olivet! <br />Yet not for this, a caitiff, falter I, <br />Beloved whom I must lose, nor thence regret <br />The doubly-vouched and twin allegiance owed <br />To you in Heaven, and Heaven in you, Lady. <br />How could you hope, loose dealer with my God, <br />That I should keep for you my fealty? <br />For still 'tis thus:-because I am so true, <br />My Fair, to Heaven, I am so true to you!<br /><br />Francis Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-holocaust-2/
