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s great way. This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome Praises God from Peter's dome." Said Theocrite, "Would God that I Might praise him, that great way, and die!" Night passed, day shone, And Theocrite was gone. 20 With God a day endures alway, A thousand years are but a day. God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night Now brings the voice of my delight." Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth Spread his wings and sank to earth; . Entered, in flesh, the empty cell, Lived there, and played the craftsman well; And morning, evening, noon and night, Praised God in place of Theocrite. 30 And from a boy, to youth he grew: The man put off the stripling's hue: The man matured and fell away Into the season of decay: And ever o'er the trade he bent, And ever lived on earth content. (He did God's will; to him, all one If on the earth or in the sun.) God said, "A praise is in mine ear; There is no doubt in it, no fear: 40 So sing old worlds, and so New worlds that from my footstool go. Clearer loves sound other ways: I miss my little human praise." Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell The flesh disguise, remained the cell. 'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome, And paused above Saint Peter's dome. In the tiring-room close by The great outer gallery, 50 With his holy vestments dight, Stood the new Pope, Theocrite: And all his past career Came back upon him clear, Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, Till on his life the sickness weighed; And in his cell, when death drew near, An angel in a dream brought cheer: And rising from the sickness drear He grew a priest, and now stood here. 60 To the East with praise he turned, And on his sight the angel burned. "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell And set thee here; I did not well. "Vainly I left my angel-sphere, Vain was thy dream of many a year. "Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped-- Creation's chorus stopped! "Go back and praise again The early way, while I remain. 70 "With that weak voice of our disdain, Take up creation's pausing strain.
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