EASTER NIGHT

All night had shout of men and cry

Of woeful women filled His way;

Until that noon of sombre sky

On Friday, clamour and display

Smote Him; no solitude had He,

No silence, since Gethsemane.

Public was Death; but Power, but Might,

But Life again, but Victory,

Were hushed within the dead of night,

The shutter’ d dark, the secrecy.

And all alone, alone, alone

He rose again behind the stone.