Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XV. Protest
‘Why this waste?’
By John White Chadwick (1840–1904)
 
THAT eyes which pierced our inmost being through;
  That lips which pressed into a single kiss,
  It seemed, a whole eternity of bliss;
That cheeks which mantled with love’s rosy hue;
That feet which wanted nothing else to do        5
  But run upon love’s errands, this and this;
  That hands so fair they had not seemed amiss
Reached down by angels through the deeps of blue;—
That all of these so deep in earth should lie
While season after season passeth by;        10
  That things which are so sacred and so sweet
  The hungry roots of tree and plant should eat!
Oh for one hour to see as Thou dost see,
My God, how great the recompense must be!
 
 
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