'MISERRIMUS,' and neither name nor date,
Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone;
Nought but that word assigned to the unknown,
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Jesus Bled! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
This is a short and masterful poem, full of feeling, meet in form to its subject, on a most serious theme. No lover of Wordsworth's usual over-wordy exhalations on gardens, flowers, rustic shepherdesses etc., yet this one speaks clearly and eloquently to more than my ears alone. I won't soon forget it.
Very nice and hearttouching poem