Poems (Linn)/In Granada Long Ago

by Edith Willis Linn

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 heel
Were the warriors who were riding
To reduce the daring foe
That had struck at proud Granada, long ago.

At a mother's side was kneeling
With hands folded on his breast,
A young boy whose face was shadowed
By 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 us
To forgive and love alway?"
Sweet the spicy winds were breathing,
Soft the river Jenil's flow
By the city of Granada, long ago.

"But my son," the mother answered,
With her dark eyes full of pain,
"These are enemies of Jesus
Who 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, wisdom
That the ages will not own!
Earth has never followed after
In the path that Christ has shown.
Still men wield the feebler power
Of the curses and the blow,
As they did in old Granada, long ago.

What became of him who questioned
As 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 show
For that boy of fair Granada, long ago.

Did he learn more worldly wisdom
Than the books of prayer contain,
And become a valiant warrior
Fighting 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.