Poems (Whitney)/The passion flower
For works with similar titles, see Passion Flower.
THE PASSION FLOWER.
The cross, the thorns, the cruel nails again!
Thus opens God's diviner flower of Day
To thee, Flower-giver: was no better way
Found out, whereby thou early should'st obtain,
What others seek through life-long years in vain,
Peace and a large, sweet charity, than this
Which that stern angel points thee to, whose kiss
Of consecration on thy brow is PAIN.
I weep consenting—knowing well that so
God tempers to a more than mortal fineness
O Friend, so high in sorrow—be not mindless
I keep for thee a heart-warm rest below;
With hopes and human yearnings, wilt thou know?
It shall not mar thy strength or thy divineness.
Thus opens God's diviner flower of Day
To thee, Flower-giver: was no better way
Found out, whereby thou early should'st obtain,
What others seek through life-long years in vain,
Peace and a large, sweet charity, than this
Which that stern angel points thee to, whose kiss
Of consecration on thy brow is PAIN.
I weep consenting—knowing well that so
God tempers to a more than mortal fineness
O Friend, so high in sorrow—be not mindless
I keep for thee a heart-warm rest below;
With hopes and human yearnings, wilt thou know?
It shall not mar thy strength or thy divineness.