Resurrection

Sleep holds you, sons of war: you may not see (You whose charmed heads sink heavy in your hands) How ’twixt the budding and the barren tree With glory in his staring eyes, he stands. There’s a sharp movement in this shivering morn That blinds your senses while it breaks your power: The Phœnix grips the eagle: Christ reborn Bears high the standard. Sleep a little hour: Sleep: it were best ye saw not those bright eyes Prepared to wreck your world with errant flame, And drive strong men to follow mysteries, Voices, and winds, and things that have no name. Dare you leave strength half-proved, duty half-done? Awake! This God will hunt you from the sun!