Good Friday Night
AT last the bird that sang so long
In twilight circles hushed his song;
Above the ancient square
The stars came here and there.
In twilight circles hushed his song;
Above the ancient square
The stars came here and there.
Good Friday night ! Some hearts were bowed,
But some within the waiting crowd,
Because of too much youth,
Felt not that mystic ruth ;
But some within the waiting crowd,
Because of too much youth,
Felt not that mystic ruth ;
And of these hearts my heart was one:
Nor when beneath the arch of stone,
With dirge and candle-flame,
The cross of Passion came,
Nor when beneath the arch of stone,
With dirge and candle-flame,
The cross of Passion came,
Did my glad being feel reproof;
Though on the awful tree aloof,
Unspiritual, dead,
Drooped the ensanguined Head.
Though on the awful tree aloof,
Unspiritual, dead,
Drooped the ensanguined Head.
To one who stood where myrtles made
A little space of deeper shade
(As I could half descry,
A stranger, even as I),
A little space of deeper shade
(As I could half descry,
A stranger, even as I),
I said: “These youths who bear along
The symbols of their Saviour’s wrong, —
The spear, the garment torn,
The flagel, and the thorn, —
The symbols of their Saviour’s wrong, —
The spear, the garment torn,
The flagel, and the thorn, —
“ Why do they make this mummery ?
Would not a brave man gladly die
For a much smaller thing
Than to be Christ and king?”
Would not a brave man gladly die
For a much smaller thing
Than to be Christ and king?”
He answered nothing, and I turned :
Throned ’mid its hundred candles, burned
The jeweled eidolon
Of her who bore the Son.
Throned ’mid its hundred candles, burned
The jeweled eidolon
Of her who bore the Son.
The crowd was prostrate; still, I felt
No shame until the stranger knelt ;
Then not to kneel, almost
Seemed like a vulgar boast.
No shame until the stranger knelt ;
Then not to kneel, almost
Seemed like a vulgar boast.
I knelt: the idol’s waxen stare
Grew soft and speaking; slowly there
Dawned the dear mortal grace
Of my own mother’s face.
Grew soft and speaking; slowly there
Dawned the dear mortal grace
Of my own mother’s face.
When we were risen up, the street
Was vacant; all the air hung sweet
With lemon flowers ; and soon
The sky would hold the moon.
Was vacant; all the air hung sweet
With lemon flowers ; and soon
The sky would hold the moon.
More silently than new-found friends,
To whom much silence makes amends
For the much babble vain
While yet their lives were twain,
To whom much silence makes amends
For the much babble vain
While yet their lives were twain,
We walked toward the odorous hill.
The light was little yet; his will
I could not see to trace
Upon his form or face.
The light was little yet; his will
I could not see to trace
Upon his form or face.
So when aloft the gold moon broke,
I cried, heart-stung. As one who woke
He turned unto my cries
The anguish of his eyes.
I cried, heart-stung. As one who woke
He turned unto my cries
The anguish of his eyes.
“ Friend! Master ! ” I said falteringly,
“Thou seest the thing they make of thee !
But by the light divine
My mother shares with thine,
“Thou seest the thing they make of thee !
But by the light divine
My mother shares with thine,
“ I beg that I may lay my head
Upon thy shoulder, and be fed
With thoughts of brotherhood! ”
So, through the odorous wood,
Upon thy shoulder, and be fed
With thoughts of brotherhood! ”
So, through the odorous wood,
More silently than friends new-found
We walked. At the last orchard bound,
His figure ashen-stoled
Sank in the moon’s broad gold.
We walked. At the last orchard bound,
His figure ashen-stoled
Sank in the moon’s broad gold.
William Vaughn Moody.