O LOVE! if I have ever in thee wrought
The slightest grief, or for the smallest space
Troubled the happy calmness of thy face,
Then may my soul be blasted by the thought:
May it be made my curse, till I am brought,
Through nights of anguish and through bitter days,
To stand at length before God's judgment place,
Where all man's strength comes utterly to nought.
Then, though on earth I had grown good as Christ,
Done all fair, righteous things, and sacrificed
Myself for man, God shall no mercy show,
But damn me utterly; and should Christ turn
To plead, His intercession I will spurn;
And say, "Nay, God, 't is just; Lord, even so!"
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“It seems to me this perfect poem is possessed by the melancholy yet tender music of winds sighing at twilight, in some churchyard, through old trees that watch beside silent graves.”
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Events during Philip Bourke Marston's lifetime
2,328 curated events in our library overlapped Philip Bourke Marston's life (13 August 1850 – 13 February 1887 (~37)) .
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