IN PORTUGAL, 1912

by: Alice Meynell (1847-1922)

      ND will they cast the altars down,
      Scatter the chalice, crush the bread?
      In field, in village, and in town
      He hides an unregarded head;
       
      Waits in the corn-lands far and near,
      Bright in His sun, dark in His frost,
      Sweet in the vine, ripe in the ear--
      Lonely unconsecrated Host.
       
      In ambush at the merry board
      The Victim lurks unsacrificed;
      The mill conceals the harvest’s Lord,
      The wine-press holds the unbidden Christ.

"In Portugal, 1912" is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. Ed. Nicholson & Lee. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1917.

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