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Poem by Robert Stephen Hawker


The Well of St. John


            On Morwenstow Glebe

THEY dreamed not in old Hebron, when the sound
Went through the city, that the promised son
Was born to Zachary, and his name was John,
They little thought that here in this far ground,
Beside the Severn sea, that Hebrew child
Would be a cherished memory of the wild;
Here, where the pulses of the ocean bound
Whole centuries away, while one meek cell,
Built by the fathers oer a lonely well,
Still breathes the Baptists sweet remembrance round:
A spring of silent waters with his name,
That from the angels voice in music came,
Here in the wilderness so faithful found,
It freshens to this day the Levites grassy mound.



Robert Stephen Hawker


Robert Stephen Hawker's other poems:
  1. The Scroll
  2. The Death-Race
  3. Featherstones Doom
  4. The Cell
  5. Mawgan of Melhuach


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