Poems (Linn)/In Granada Long Ago
IN GRANADA LONG AGO.
OVER Spain the sun was rising,Lighting up the soldier's steel;Polished helmets flashed and glittered;Plumed of head and spurred of heelWere the warriors who were ridingTo reduce the daring foeThat had struck at proud Granada, long ago.
At a mother's side was kneelingWith hands folded on his breast,A young boy whose face was shadowedBy a longing and unrest.In his hands he clasped a prayer-book,In his face was feeling's glow,As the sun rose on Granada, long ago.
"Mother," and his voice grew eager,"Is it right to wound and slay?Does not Christ the Master tell usTo forgive and love alway?"Sweet the spicy winds were breathing,Soft the river Jenil's flowBy the city of Granada, long ago.
"But my son," the mother answered,With her dark eyes full of pain,"These are enemies of JesusWho would strike the Church through Spain.""Why not try Christ's way?" he answered,With a voice perplexed and low;In the city of Granada, long ago?
Why not try Christ's way? Oh, wisdomThat the ages will not own!Earth has never followed afterIn the path that Christ has shown.Still men wield the feebler powerOf the curses and the blow,As they did in old Granada, long ago.
What became of him who questionedAs the swift-winged years passed o'er?—Was he gentle priest and teacher,Love's disciple evermore?Only silence for an answer;Histories have no name to showFor that boy of fair Granada, long ago.
Did he learn more worldly wisdomThan the books of prayer contain,And become a valiant warriorFighting for the Church and Spain? Once, alas! we all were like him,Trusting, ere he learned to know,In the city of Granada, long ago.