Poem of the day

Gethsemane

Upon what stone did the weight of the world rest?
On what rich soil did the heavy tears fall?
Brave consternation! If ever fear was blessed,
that fear among the garden did so deserve it best.

And was there not a soul on earth who knew at all?
Who heard not the throbbing of heaven's heart?
And felt the seraphim poised should He give the call?
Earth's proudest moment, when man did God enthrall.

Oh heaven! Which knows each mark of the eternal chart,
could this be a plea derived from its own?
And once it moved, you gave a start,
as a sculptor might should the clay adjust the art.

Omniscient Father! How could you not have known?
And is it in a God to change his mind?
Much is at work when man in God has grown
and mingles with paradise an aching moan.

And in that disconcerted moment could we find
that strangeness of perfection and blight intertwind,
when heaven felt a tap and feared to look behind,
sensing the infiltration of the anguish of mankind.