One grief on me is laid Each day of every year, Wherein no soul can aid, Whereof no soul can hear: Whereto no end is seen Except to grieve again, Ah, Mary Magdalene, Where is there greater pain? To dream on dear disgrace Each hour of every day, To bring no honest face To aught I do or say: To lie from morn till e'en, To know my lies are vain, Ah, Mary Magdalene, Where can be greater pain? To watch my steadfast fear Attend mine every way Each day of every year, Each hour of every day: To burn, and chill between, To quake and rage again, Ah, Mary Magdalene, Where shall be greater pain: One grave to me was given, To guard till Judgment Day, But God looked down from Heaven And rolled the Stone away! One day of all my years, One hour of that one day, His Angel saw my tears And rolled the Stone away!
Return to the Rudyard Kipling library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Burial