Whatever story of their cruelty,
Or nail, or thorn, or spear have writ in Thee,
Are in another sense
Still legible ;
Sweet is the difference :
Once I did spell
Every red letter
A wound of Thine ;
Now, what is better,
Balsam for mine.
On The Still Surviving Marks Of Our Saviour's
Richard Crashaw
(1)
Poem topics: red, sweet, sense, story, difference, thine, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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