|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Alice Meynell|
|“Nous avons chassť ce Jesus-Christ.”French Publicist|
Yes, from the ingrate heart, the street |
Of garrulous tongue, the warm retreat
Within the village and the town;
Not from the lands where ripen brown
A thousand thousand hills of wheat;
Not from the long Burgundian line, |
The Southward, sunward range of vine.
Hunted, He never will escape
The flesh, the blood, the sheaf, the grape,
That feed His manthe bread, the wine.
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Created April 9, 2001; not revised.