WOMAN S KINGDOM. 243
What is the tribute vassals pay, And when the solemn reck ning-day ? How are its courtly phrases learned, And jewelled orders hardly earned ?
Not where rude wassail, loud and deep, Wakens the warder if he sleep ; Not where the vassal proffers gold, Or love with priestly rite is sold ; Not where the garment s golden sheen Shows jewelled ribbon broad between ; Not where the polished precepts taught In silver accents, count for naught ; Not there her kingdom.
Reaching high,
Its walls rise upward to the sky, For weary souls who crave her aid, For frightened souls sin-sick, afraid, While she beside the postern stands To hold up weak and weary hands.
Her throne the hallowed chamber where Her child is taught its evening prayer ; Her crown a good man s steadfast love, Pure gold that fire shall only prove \ Her warders only loving prayers To guard the feet of stumbling cares ; Her tribute loving hearts and true ; Her orders, Faith s broad ribbon blue, Decked with the cross and starry Hope, Borne on a shining anchor up.
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