Explore "Absinthe" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I have prayed to the Christ of the merciful eyes, / I have prayed to the Lord of Hosts, / I have prayed, but in vain, for God to rise / And scatter these murderous ghosts, / These horrible, beckoning ghosts that sign / And beckon me where? ah, where? / O little green god in your crystal shrine, / You only will heed my prayer!
The breath of your mouth is a powerful wind / That whirls sorrow-shadows away; / The light of your eyes burns the bonds that bind, / I escape from the earth's fell sway. / The pallid figures in threatening line, / They falter and tremble and flee. / O little green god in your crystal shrine, / Shed some of your glory on me!