Look, The

The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word,

No gesture of reproach; the Heavens serene

Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean

Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord

Looked only, on the traitor. None record

What that look was, none guess; for those who have seen

Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,

Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,

Have missed Jehovah at the judgment-call.

And Peter, from the height of blasphemy--

I never knew this man --did quail and fall

As knowing straight THAT GOD; and turned free

And went out speechless from the face of all

And filled the silenc, weeping bitterly.

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