Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

116. The Christ-sword

THE WHILE my mad brain whirled around

She only looked with eyes elate

Immortal love at me. I found

How deep the glance of love can wound,

How cruel pity is to hate.

I was begirt with hostile spears:

My angel warred in me for you

Whose gentle calmness all too fierce

Made unseen lightnings to pierce

My heart that dripped with ruddy dew.

I know how on the final day

The hosts of darkness meet with death:

The angels with their love shall slay,

Flowing to meet the dark array

With terrible yet tender breath.