POSCA

The light within the sky was growing dim.

Death-white, a thorn-crowned face looked from a cross

And watched with dying eyes the soldiers toss

Dice for the seamless robe they stripped from Him;

And of that number there was one who first

Was touched with pity for Him hanging there,

And ran a sponge of vinegar to bear,

When in His anguish Jesus said: “I thirst!”

O nameless soldier of the long ago,

Yours was the doing of a deathless deed;

Who braved the people passing to and fro,

And gave to Christ the sponge upon a reed

The while His own disciples standing near,

Dismayed, moved not to help Him in their fear.