win
  Unto the beach before a ship should sail. 
  Passing the door, the ass turned round its head,
  And looked on Jesus:  and he knew the look;
  And, knowing it, knew too the strange dark cross
  Laying upon its shoulders and its back. 
  It was a foal of that same ass which bare
  The infant and the mother, when they fled
  To Egypt from the edge of Herod’s sword. 
  And Jesus watched them, till they reached the sands. 
  Then, by his mother sitting down once more,
  Once more there came that shadow of deep grief
  Upon his brow when Mary looked at him: 
  And she remembered it in days that came.

III.  The Crowning with Thorns

  And the time passed. 
  The child sat by himself upon the beach,
  While Joseph’s barge freighted with heavy wood,
  Bound homewards, slowly labored thro’ the calm. 
  And, as he watched the long waves swell and break,
  Run glistening to his feet, and sink again,
  Three children, and then two, with each an arm
  Around the other, throwing up their songs,
  Such happy songs as only children know,
  Came by the place where Jesus sat alone. 
  But, when they saw his thoughtful face, they ceased,
  And, looking at each other, drew near him;
  While one who had upon his head a wreath
  Of hawthorn flowers, and in his hand a reed,
  Put these both from him, saying, “Here is one
  Whom you shall all prefer instead of me
  To be our king;” and then he placed the wreath
  On Jesus’ brow, who meekly bowed his head. 
  And, when he took the reed, the children knelt,
  And cast their simple offerings at his feet: 
  And, almost wondering why they loved him so,
  Kissed him with reverence, promising to yield
  Grave fealty.  And Jesus did return
  Their childish salutations; and they passed
  Singing another song, whose music chimed
  With the sea’s murmur, like a low sweet chant
  Chanted in some wide church to Jesus Christ. 
  And Jesus listened till their voices sank
  Behind the jutting rocks, and died away: 
  Then the wave broke, and Jesus felt alone. 
  Who being alone, on his fair countenance
  And saddened beauty all unlike a child’s
  The sun of innocence did light no smile,
  As on the group of happy faces gone.

IV.  Jesus Carrying his Cross

  And, when the barge arrived, and Joseph bare
  The wood upon his shoulders, piece by piece,
  Up to his shed, Jesus ran by his side,
  Yearning for strength to help the aged man
  Who tired himself with work all day for him. 
  But Joseph said:  “My child, it is God’s will
  That I should work for thee until thou art
  Of age to help thyself.—­Bide thou his time
  Which cometh—­when thou wilt be strong enough,
  And on thy shoulders bear a tree like this.” 
  So, while he spake, he took the last one up,
  Settling it with heaved back, fetching his breath. 
  Then Jesus lifted deep prophetic eyes
  Full in the old man’s face, but nothing said,
  Running still on to open first the door.