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Robert Graves - In The Wilderness
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Christ of His gentleness  
Thirsting and hungering,  
Walked in the wilderness;  
Soft words of grace He spoke  
Unto lost desert-folk
That listened wondering.  
He heard the bitterns call  
From ruined palace-wall,  
Answered them brotherly.  
He held communion
With the she-pelican  
Of lonely piety.  
Basilisk, cockatrice,  
Flocked to his homilies,  
With mail of dread device,
With monstrous barbéd slings,  
With eager dragon-eyes;  
Great rats on leather wings  
And poor blind broken things,  
Foul in their miseries.
And ever with Him went,  
Of all His wanderings  
Comrade, with ragged coat,  
Gaunt ribs—poor innocent—  
Bleeding foot, burning throat,
The guileless old scapegoat;  
For forty nights and days  
Followed in Jesus’ ways,  
Sure guard behind Him kept,  
Tears like a lover wept.
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