posted on 2024-04-05, 13:40authored byFirst World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team
As Jesus and his followers Upon a Sabbath morn Were walking by a wheat field They plucked the ears of corn. They plucked it, they rubbed it, They blew the husks away, Which grieved the pious Pharisees Upon the Sabbath day. And Jesus said, 'A riddle Answer if you can, Was man made for the Sabbath Or Sabbath made for man?' I do not love the Sabbath, The soapsuds and the starch, The troops of solemn people Who to Salvation march. I take my book, I take my stick On the Sabbath day, In woody nooks and valleys I hide myself away, To ponder there in quiet God's Universal Plan, Resolved that church and Sabbath Were never made for man.
History
Identifier
3400.txt
Creator
Graves, Robert (1895-1985)
Date
(1995, 1997, 1999)
Date Created
01/01/1997
Temporal Date
31/12/1999
Type
Poem
Rights
The Robert Graves Copyright Trust / Published in Graves, R. (1999) Complete Poems: Volumes 1 - 3. Eds. B. Graves and D. Ward. London: Penguin Books.