Explore "Poems" by Elinor Jenkins on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He hung upon a wayside Calvary, / From whence no more the carven Christ looks down / With wide, blank eyes beneath the thorny crown, / On the devout and careless, passing by.
The Cross had shaken with his agony, / His blood had stained the dancing grasses brown, / But when we found him, though the weary frown, / That waited on death's long delayed mercy, / Still bent his brow, yet he was dead and cold, / With drooping head and patient eyes astare, / That would not shut. As we stood turned to ice / The sun remembered Golgotha of old, / And made a halo of his yellow hair / In mockery of that fruitless sacrifice.