WHY JESUS WEPT 
9 
Attained is the height. 
Down like a plummet 
To blackness and night 
Hope goes.  Not here, 
Not here is Desire, 
The ease from fear, 
The ice from fire. 
Not here — O God ! 
I would I were dead 
Under the sod ! 
My brain is as lead. 
My thoughts are as smoke. 
My heart is a fire ; 
I know not what fuel 
Is feeding its fury ! 
In vain I invoke 
The Lord of Desire ! 
He is evil and cruel. 
The spells of Jewry 
Are poured in his ear 
In vain :  he may hear not. 
O would I were dumb ! 
For the pestilent fever 
That bites my blood 
Forces like fear 
These babblings :  I near not 
The secret, nor come 
To my purpose for ever.  
A turbulent flood