Rumanous a Greek Poet
Jesus the Poet
HE WAS A poet. He saw for our eyes and heard for our ears, and our silent
words were upon His lips; and His fingers touched what we could not feel.
Out of His heart there flew countless singing birds to the north and to
the south, and the little flowers on the hill-sides stayed His steps towards
the heavens.
Oftentimes I have seen Him bending down to touch the blades of grass.
And in my heart I have heard Him say: "Little green things, you shall
be with me in my kingdom, even as the oaks of Besan, and the cedars of
Lebanon."
He loved all things of loveliness, the shy faces of children, and the
myrrh and frankincense from the south.
He loved a pomegranate or a cup of wine given Him in kindness; it mattered
not whether it was offered by a stranger in the inn or by a rich host.
And He loved the almond blossoms. I have seen Him gathering them into
His hands and covering His face with the petals, as though He would embrace
with His love all the trees in the world.
He knew the sea and the heavens; and He spoke of pearls which have light
that is not of this light, and of stars that are beyond our night.
He knew the mountains as eagles know them, and the valleys as they are
known by the brooks and the streams. And there was a desert in His silence
and a garden in His speech.
Aye, He was a poet whose heart dwelt in a bower beyond the heights, and
His songs though sung for our ears, were sung for other ears also, and
to men in another land where life is for ever young and time is always
dawn.
Once I too deemed myself a poet, but when I stood before Him in Bethany,
I knew what it is to hold an instrument with but a single string before
one who commands all instruments. For in His voice there was the laughter
of thunder and the tears of rain, and the joyous dancing of trees in the
wind.
And since I have known that my lyre has but one string, and that my voice
weaves neither the memories of yesterday nor the hopes of tomorrow, I
have put aside my lyre and I shall keep silence. But always at twilight
I shall hearken, and I shall listen to the Poet who is the sovereign of
all poets.
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