  WHAT is it thou hast seen, O desert prophet, hung with camel’s hair, and lean? What makes thine eyes so wide? Not the huge desert where the camel-owners ride; But One, who comes along, So humble in His steps, and yet to Him belong Thy days in their surcease, Because He must increase as thou must now decrease. Behold thy God, whose strength Is as the coiling-in of thy life’s length! Thou of wide eyes, wide soul, Thy heart-blood as He comes to thee heaves on its goal! Saint of the sinner, John, Those whom thy lustral water hath been poured upon, Those who have kept thy fast With locusts and wild honey and long hours have passed In penance, when they see Christ coming toward them, young and fair with what shall be, And giving God delight, They know, by very doom of that remorseless sight, Will fade away, diminish and no more be seen: They must, O desert saint, Bow them to certain death and yet they must not faint, And yet they must proclaim The obliterating flourish of their Slayer’s name. |
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