26th June 2021

Begone foul beast that grips my weary throat.
You are unwelcome! Yet thou art still within my house?
Canst thou not see the door, at least the gateway to the street?
Why dost thou love to linger from moistened crown to chill-filled feet?
First the head, and then the nose, and then the tonsil stairs;
And then the chest, and then recesses, deep within my brow;
And then the eye, and then the ear. Alas! What next?
The heart? And think that thou can take it all?
But when my Master comes, thou shalt surely flee!
One word from Him, and thou shall yield on bended knee!

(He tarries. But only to achieve His will.
He tarried in days of old when Lazarus took ill.
That was but to show His power and His precious tear.
And in my case I know that He is wise, and just as near.)
For even if thou grimly laugh, and score the better point,
And snatch from deep within my lungs their final breath;
And lay my mortal frame in dust and dark,
And cause a chiselled stone to stand above my head.
The Master will not abide that there I linger long;
One word from Him, and heav’n will be my song!

DM 26th June 2021