IN THE WILDERNESS

by: Robert Graves

HRIST 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.

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