E Tenebris

Oscar Wilde

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COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand,
For I am drowning in a stormier sea
Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,
My heart is as some famine-murdered land,
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God's throne should stand.
"He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name


From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height."
Nay, peace, I shall behold before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.

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Comments1
  • georgiannacaleb

    Wow, this poem really captures the feeling of despair! It feels like the speaker is pleading for salvation from a place of darkness and anguish. It's intense and emotive, and the religious imagery adds a dramatic touch to it.