Sidney Lanier
Into the woods my
Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master
came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to
Him,
The little gray leaves were kind to Him:
The thorn-tree had a mind to
Him
When into the woods He came.
Out of the woods my Master
went,
And He was well content.
Out of the woods my Master came,
Content
with death and shame.
When Death and Shame would woo Him last,
From under
the trees they drew Him last:
'Twas on a tree they slew Him -- last
When
out of the woods He came.
