The Interim

An early April dusk came down uponJerusalem and tragic Golgotha.The sun, which had refused its light at noon,Now fled the sky, leaving his crimson tunic;Grim clouds looked down upon Mount Calvary,And one lone star stood trembling in the gloom.

The little company of Jesus' friends,Who had with saddened hearts laid him to restWithin the garden, went their various ways—The wealthy Joseph, who had given themA new rock tomb and linen for the shroud,With Nicodemus, who had brought in turnA hundred pounds of aloes and of myrrh,And others—all went home as Joseph rolledThe stone in place before the sepulcher,Except two women, Mary Magdalene,And one named Mary, mother of two sons.They tarried in the dusk, hand clasped in hand,And knew not that another sun would bringA Roman guard on heavy, tramping feetTo seal the tomb and spend the interimBetween death's claim and Life's victorious mornIn jestful watch, in sleep, or playing dice.

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