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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXII
Work rating: Low

To--day I was at Milan, in such thought
 As pilgrims bring who at faith`s threshold stand,
 Still burdened with the sorrows they have brought,
 And vexed with stranger tongues in a strange land.
 And lo, this sign was given me. At my hand
 Hung that mysterious supper Vinci wrought
 With the sad twelve who were Christ`s chosen band,
 A type of vows and courage come to nought.
 And, while I gazed, with a reproachful look
 The bread was broken and the wine was poured,
 And the disciples raised their hands and spoke,
 Each asking ``Is it I? and I too? Lord!``
 And there was answered them this mournful cry:
 ``All shall abandon me to--night.`` So I.
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