In Galilee

Roman and Jew upon one level lie; Great Herod’s palaces are ground to dust; Upon the synagogues are mould and rust; Night winds among the tottering columns sigh; Yet sparrows through the massive ruins fly, And o’er the sacred earth’s embroidered crust Still goes the sower forth to sow, still must The shepherd with his sheep sit listlessly. There towers the mountain where the Teacher spake In those old times the sweet Beatitudes, Surviving kings and codes, fair words and feuds. There creeps the Jordan to its destined lake, The fisher casts his net into the sea, And still the lilies bloom in Galilee.

Collection: 
English
Mary Frances Butts

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