  IN the Orient heat He stands— Heat that makes the palm-trees dim, Palms that do not shelter Him, As under the fierce blue He stands with outstretched hands. As a lizard of the rocks, Under furnace-sun He stays; Earth beneath Him in a daze Is faint and trembling, spite of rocks, in shadeless blocks. He among them mid the blue, With a mouth wide open held, As a lion-fountain welled Under the spaciousness of blue, the heat throbs through. Wide His mouth as lion’s, set Wide for waters of a fount! Through them words of challenge mount, Great words that cry through them, wide-set, where men have met. “Ye the thirsty come to Me!” So He cries with lion-roar: “Ye will thirst not any more. Come!” and He stands for all to see, and offers free. Jesus, in the Eastern sun, A strange prophet with His cry! While the folk are passing by, And clack their tongues, nor will they run where thirst is done. |
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