Destroyers and Other Verses/Epiphany

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EPIPHANY.

No starry candles lit this festal time,And round our Twelfth Night table there was noneWho did not mourn a husband, brother, sonGone in his prime;Not with the customary pomp of death,With sick-bed ritual and flickering breath,But like the blossom of tempestuous May,In one night swept away;And of its radiance no memorial seenBeyond the empty place where it had been.
So we stand sorrow-laden at the feast,Where wisdom knelt in homage to a Child,And three world-weary pilgrims from the EastLaid at His feetGold, and a healing balm, and odours sweet.We too must being our offering, pay the priceTo gain the goal of sacramental peaceWhere doubts dissolve, insurgent longings cease,And sorrow is sublimed in sacrifice.
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