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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Edward Townsend Booth

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

To an Authentic Priest

Edward Townsend Booth

HE weighs me down, this Christ of yours.

He weighs me down—his arm is on

My elbow in the streakèd dawn;

Oppresses he my evening hours;

Still he outshines the manifold

Bright rays that centre in my heart.

Much loveliness I knew grows cold

The while his threatening fires start

To gnaw at this old edifice

Of sturdy lusts. Outsavors he

The savor of my ancient bliss.

He tempts me to apostasy.