| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XXVI. Melancholy
Marvel of Marvels | | By Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894) |
| | | MARVEL of marvels, if I myself shall behold | |
| With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold; | |
| Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold, | |
| Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled, | |
| Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled. | 5 |
| O saints, my belovèd, now mouldering to mould in the mould, | |
| Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unrolled, | |
| See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold | |
| Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold,— | |
| ‘The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold.’ | 10 |
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| Cold it is, my belovèd, since your funeral bell was tolled: | |
| Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold. | | | | |
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