St. Jerome Penitent (by Jan Gossaert, called Mabuse), Sonnet #2

Trees are crosses and this cross a tree.

The man is diminished by hanging,

Not by his suffering -- which is only a fee

In return for what is beyond questioning --

But by the distance between himself and the earth.

There are two ways to respond to such love,

By kneeling and by not kneeling. Let death,

Which has no meaning below or above,

Being only the Sphinx with no riddle to ask,

Stop its shallow breathing just long enough

To confirm the man in his eternal task.

Let him answer silence with a barking cough. 

Only then shall I climb that tree as well

Without fear of heaven or hope of hell.

Here is another poem about St. Jerome: 
http://christopherguerin.blogspot.com/2010/05/st-jerome.html
 

St. Jerome

His animal mind
parsed by grids
of lattice and tile.

The table edge sooths
a cassock's tormented
drapery into planes.

Dust ascends the sunlight
to touch the cold
surface of the window.

Twelve points of horn
suspended by hemp
spatter candle wax

in sea horse patterns
about the Bible stand.
Over his shoulder

the standing crucifix
reads, with craning,
exhaustion, stories

that crack its heart.
He thumbs the pages
staring out to space.

His thoughts circle:
What is the difference,
patience and faith?

Either you are young
and ardent, or still
wait and hope

the lion asleep beneath
the table awakens
while you're still here.