The Bride

                The Bride

If Tennyson had crushed that flower in

The crannied wall, would he have known what God

And man are?  Would that poet know what sin

And Christ’s theodicy are?  Overawed

Is what this rhymester wanted most to be.

He didn’t really care about what mere

Thought speaks.  He cared about salt grief’s dead sea.

The poet sought relief from mourning’s sphere.

He knew, yes, knew the meaning of love’s loss.

He didn’t need a petal, living, dead

Or squashed, or need a God up on a cross.

He knew his truest love with sorrow wed.

  The wedding was a young man’s death.  This life

    Left poet, passion, God with black dressed wife.

Phillip Whidden