Christina Rosetti



Am I a stone and not a sheep,

that I can stand, O Christ, beneath

Thy cross to number drop by drop

Thy blood’s slow loss

and yet not weep?


Not so these women loved

         who with exceeding grief

         lamented Thee.


Not so fallen Peter,

         weeping bitterly. 

Not so the sun and the moon which hid their faces

         in a starless sky,

         as horror of great darkness at broad noon. 


I, only I.  Yet give not o’er, 

         but seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock.

         Greater than Moses, turn and look once more

         and smite a rock!