Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 160

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CLX NICODEMUS
With slow and stealthy steps he trod The darkening and deserted streets; And no one in the market greetsThe man upon his way to God.
By night he left the splendid home That sheltered many a sleeping guest. One and another lay at rest—The master of the house would roam.
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Was there a single soul that knew? No! For he feared the eye of scorn, The crooked laugh of anger born.Only the bats about him flew.
The broidered borders of his gown He covered o'er, that none might see. Shall good come out of Galilee?This were the mock of all the town.
But in the City named for Peace No peace his weary heart had known. And ever in the crowd aloneHe waged a war that would not cease.
He came by night—and yet he came. And He that was Himself the Way Shall own him in the Judgment Day,And to the world confess his name.
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