La vie décousue

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I SAW the Sun at mid­night, rising red,
Deep-hued yet glow­ing, heavy with the stain
Of blood-compassion, and I saw It gain
Swiftly in size and grow­ing till It spread
Over the stars; the heav­ens bowed their head
As from Its heart slow dripped a crim­son rain,
Then a great tremor shook It, as of pain—
The night fell, moan­ing, as It hung there dead.
O Sun, O Christ, O bleed­ing Heart of flame!
Thou giv’st Thine agony as our life’s worth,
And mak’st it infin­ite, lest we have dearth
Of rights where­with to call upon thy Name;
Thou pawn­est Heaven as a pledge for Earth,
And for our glory suf­ferest all shame.

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