Explore "To any Saint" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You turn the unsmitten other cheek, / In silence welcoming God's grace, / Disdaining, though they scourge, to speak, / Smiling forgiveness face to face.
You plunge your arms in tyrant flame, / From ravening beasts you do not fly, / Calling aloud on one sweet Name, / Hosannah-singing till you die.
So angered by your undefeat, / Revenge through Christ they meditate, / Disciples at the bishop's feet / They learn this newer sort of hate,
This unresisting meek assault / On furious foe or stubborn friend, / This virtue purged of every fault / By furtherance of the martyr's end,
This baffling stroke of naked pride, / When satires fail and curses fail / To pierce the justice's tough hide, / To abash the cynics of the jail.
Oh, not less violent, not less keen / And barbèd more than murder's blade! / "The brook," you sigh, "that washes clean, / The flower of love that will not fade! "