Poem July 17, 1926 ISSUE

[Written for the Sentinel]

"Neither do I condemn thee"

M. ROSAMOND WATSON

They brought her to the Master—hurried her,Confused, and all unready with her plea,Into the presence of the gracious one.Fearful, she hid herself before the lightWhich shone about his face. He stood apartWithin the temple courts; and as the crowdDrew near, he stooped and wrote upon the ground,Nor looked on her. With subtle questioningThe Pharisees bespoke him of the law:Such should be stoned! Master, what sayest thou?Absorbed, he wrote as though he heard them not.Again they urged him; and perforce he rose,And looking through them, spoke his thought aloud:He without sin amongst you, let him firstCast a stone at her.A sudden silence fell—Those, her accusers, stood abashed, subdued,Pricked in their conscience, turned upon themselves;And mid the stillness of those sunlit courtsOnce more he stooped and wrote upon the ground.

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