Verse > Anthologies > W. Garrett Horder, ed. > The Poets’ Bible: New Testament
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W. Garrett Horder, comp.  The Poets’ Bible: New Testament.  1895.
 
A Prodigal Son
Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)
 
DOES that lamp still burn in my Father’s house,
  Which he kindled the night I went away?
I turned once beneath the cedar boughs,
  And marked it gleam with a golden ray;
  Did he think to light me home some day?        5
 
Hungry here with the crunching swine,
  Hungry harvest have I to reap;
In a dream I count my Father’s kine,
  I hear the tinkling bells of his sheep
  I watch his lambs that browse and leap.        10
 
There is plenty of bread at home,
  His servants have bread enough and to spare;
The purple wine-fat froths with foam,
  Oil and spices make sweet the air,
  While I perish hungry and bare.        15
 
Rich and blessed those servants, rather
  Than I who see not my Father’s face!
I will arise and go to my Father,—
  “Fallen from sonship, beggared of grace,
  Grant me Father, a servant’s place.”        20
 
 
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