I do not cry, beloved, neither curse.
Silence and strength, these two at least are good.
He gave me sun and start and aught He could,
But not a woman’s love; for that is hers.
He sealed her heart from sage and questioner —
Yea, with seven seals, as he has sealed the grave.
And if she give it to a drunken slave,
The Day of Judgment shall not challenge her.
Only this much: if one, deserving well,
Touching your thin young hands and making suit,
Feel not himself a crawling thing, a brute,
Buried and bricked in a forgotten hell;
Prophet and poet be he over sod,
Prince among angels in the highest place,
God help me, I will smite him on the face,
Before the glory of the face of God.
(G. K. Chesterton)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, God Poems, Faces Poems, Place Poems, Cry Poems, Success Poems, Woman Poems, Silence Poems, Hell Poems, Slavery Poems, Prophets & Prophecies PoemsBased on Keywords: suit, angels, sage, prince, highest, touching, sealed, sod, drunken, poet, brute