A Prodigal Son

Ok, so I'm supposed to be doing homework but I'm on Blogger instead. Bad, I know. ;] Anyways, I've got all my homework done except for these poems. I was flying through them, thinking "Wow, this is so easy!" when I come to a sudden stop: A Prodigal Son by Christina Rossetti. Oh boy.

Here's the poem.

Does that lamp still burn in my Father's house,
Which he kindled the night I went away?
I turned once beneath the cedar boughs,
And marked it gleam with a golden ray;
Did he think to light me a home some day?

Hungry here with the crunching swine,
Hungry harvest have I to reap;
In a dream I count my Father's kine,
I hear the tinkling of bells of his sheep,
I watch his lambs that browse and leap.

There is plenty of bread at home,
His servants have bread enough and to spare;
The purple wine-fat froths with foam,
Oil and spices make sweet the air,
While I perish hungry and bare.

Rich and blessed those servants, rather
Than I who see not my Father's face!
I will arise and go to Father:--
"Fallen from sonship, beggared of grace,
Grant me, Father, a servant's place."

WAIT A SECOND! I suddenly understand this! There is a Biblical allusion in each poem, and this one was slightly tricky for me. But I now get it, and I'm now done with this blog. Thanks for helping!