Poems (Kennedy)/Easter
For works with similar titles, see Easter.
EASTER
IS Easter but to send a fragrant flower And get one in return?Is it to pour the pennies you have saved Into the church's urn And feel self-sanctified?
Is it to deck yourself in gorgeous robe Whose glories shall shine downYour neighbor's raiment, and so draw to you The smile or envious frown That leaves you satisfied?
If this your creed, then all in vain you sit Today where lilies spillTheir incense, and the organ's swelling peal Comes with a victory-thrill That stirs the raptured world.
For Easter is nor gifts nor robings rare, Nor yet a song clear-sung;It is th' uplifting of the shriven soul From doubts that clasped and clung And into darkness whirled.
If from some buried past our hopes can rise And catch the cadence rareOf world-hosannas throbbing with God's love, Each note a bead of prayer— Each prayer a tide that rolls—
If, from old sins and passions that enslave, Our hearts can break awayAnd rise triumphant from the dross of hate— Then is this Resurrection day, Then is it Easter in our souls!