Samson
Plunged in night, I sit alone
Eyeless on this dungeon stone,
Naked, shaggy, and unkempt,
Dreaming dreams no soul hath dreamt.
Rats and vermin round my feet
Play unharmed, companions sweet;
Spiders weave me overhead
Silken curtains for my bed.
Day by day the mould I smell
Of this fungus-blistered cell;
Nightly in my haunted sleep
O'er my face the lizards creep.
Gyves of iron scrape and burn
Wrists and ankles when I turn,
And my collared neck is raw
With the teeth of brass that gnaw.
God of Israel, canst Thou see
All my fierce captivity?
Do Thy sinews feel my pains?
Hearest Thou the clanking chains?
Thou who madest me so fair,
Strong and buoyant as the air,
Tall and noble as a tree,
With the passions of the sea,
Swift as horse upon my feet,
Fierce as lion in my heat,
Rending, like a wisp of hay,
All that dared withstand my way,
Canst Thou see me through the gloom
Of this subterranean tomb, --
Blinded tiger in his den,
Once the lord and prince of men?
Clay was I; the potter Thou
With Thy thumb-nail smooth'dst my brow,
Rolltdst the spittle-moistened sands
Into limbs between Thy hands.
Thou didst pour into my blood
Fury of the fire and flood,
And upon the boundless skies,
Thou didst first unclose my eyes.
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poem by Frederick George Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
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