Blanche Edith Baughan
On the Just and the Unjust
OUTCAST, a horror to his kind,
At night he to the forest fled.
There, the birch-bark made fire for him,
The brown fern made a bed.
The river murmured lullaby,
The moisty mosses breathed of balm,
The clean stars carried light to him,
Unterrified and calm.
Aye, as they would have served a saint
Freely all served the guilty guest.
They only saw their Father’s son,
And brought their brother rest.
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Comments about this poem (On the Just and the Unjust by Blanche Edith Baughan )
- Long before my birth (cavatina), Gert Strydom
- Let Me Be Her<3, Nautica Moxley
- Absalom, Gert Strydom
- Freedom Is Calling, Tony Adah
- God and Guru, gajanan mishra
- Left Naked And Exposed, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Birth day, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- TWILIGHT, Meggie Gultiano
- Morning prayers., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Favorite Quote, Nautica Moxley
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