Famous Short Easter Poems

Famous Short Easter Poems. Short Easter Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Easter short poems

Easter Song  

 I Got me flowers to straw Thy way, 
I got me boughs off many a tree; 
But Thou wast up by break of day, 
And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.
 

The sunne arising in the East, 
Though he give light, and th’ East perfume, 
If they should offer to contest 
With Thy arising, they presume.
 

Can there be any day but this, 
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour? 
We count three hundred, but we misse: 
There is but one, and that one ever.

Good Friday in my Heart  

 GOOD FRIDAY in my heart! Fear and affright! 
My thoughts are the Disciples when they fled, 
My words the words that priest and soldier said, 
My deed the spear to desecrate the dead.
 
And day, Thy death therein, is changed to night.
 

Then Easter in my heart sends up the sun.
 
My thoughts are Mary, when she turned to see.
 
My words are Peter, answering, ‘Lov’st thou Me?’ 
My deeds are all Thine own drawn close to Thee, 
And night and day, since Thou dost rise, are one.

If He dissolve -- then  

 If He dissolve -- then --
there is nothing -- more --
Eclipse -- at Midnight --
It was dark -- before --

Sunset -- at Easter --
Blindness -- on the Dawn --
Faint Star of Bethlehem --
Gone down!

Would but some God -- inform Him --
Or it be too late!
Say -- that the pulse just lisps --
The Chariots wait --

Say -- that a little life -- for His --
Is leaking -- red --
His little Spaniel -- tell Him!
Will He heed?

Conviction (ii)  

 I walked abroad in Easter Park,
I heard the wild dog's distant bark,
I knew my Lord was risen again, -
Wild dog, wild dog, you bark in vain.

Easter Morning  

 a stone at dawn
cold water in the basin
these walls' rough plaster
imageless
after the hammering
of so much insistence
on the need for naming
after the travesties
that passed as faces,
grace: the unction
of sheer nonexistence
upwelling in this
hyacinthine freshet
of the unnamed
the faceless

Easter  

 Bring flowers to strew His way, 
Yea, sing, make holiday; 
Bid young lambs leap, 
And earth laugh after sleep.
 

For now He cometh forth
Winter flies to the north, 
Folds wings and cries 
Amid the bergs and ice.
 

Yea, Death, great Death is dead, 
And Life reigns in his stead;
Cometh the Athlete 
New from dead Death's defeat.
 

Cometh the Wrestler, 
But Death he makes no stir, 
Utterly spent and done, 
And all his kingdom gone.