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In the Wilderness - a poem by Robert Graves

by: Robert Graves

Christ of His gentleness 
Thirsting and hungering 
Walked in the wilderness; 
Soft words of grace He spoke 
Unto lost desert-folk 
That listened wondering. 
He heard the bitterns call 
From the ruined palace-wall, 
Answered them brotherly. 
He held communion 
With the she-pelican 
Of lonely piety. 
Basilisk, cockatrice, 
Flocked to his homilies, 
With mail of dread device, 
With monstrous barbed slings, 
With eager dragon-eyes; 
Great rats on leather wings, 
And poor blind broken things, 
Foul in their miseries. 
And ever with Him went, 
Of all His wanderings 
Comrade, with ragged coat, 
Gaunt ribs--poor innocent-- 
Bleeding foot, burning throat, 
The guileless old scape-goat; 
For forty nights and days 
Followed in Jesus' ways, 
Sure guard behing Him kept, 
Tears like a lover wept.

In the Wilderness - a poem by Robert Graves

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