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THE LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY
That her's, forsooth, are heavenly eyes—ah, me! while very dim
Some heavenly eyes (indeed of Heaven!) would darken down to him.
Evil Spirit.
Who told thee thou wert called to death?
Onora in sleep.
I sate all night beside thee—
The grey owl on the ruined wall shut both his eyes to hide thee;
And ever he flapped his heavy wing, all brokenly and weak,
And the long grass waved against the sky, around his gasping beak!
I sate beside thee all the night, while the moonlight lay forlorn,
Strewn round us like a dead world's shroud, in ghastly fragments torn!
And through the night, and through the hush, and over the flapping wing,
We heard, beside the Heavenly Gate, the angels murmuring:—
We heard them say, "Put day to day, and count the days to seven,
And God will draw Onora up the golden stairs of Heaven:
And yet He grants the evil ones, that purpose to defer,
For if she has no need of Him, He has no need of her"—
Evil Spirit.
Speak out to me—speak bold and free.
Onora in sleep.
And then I heard thee say,—
"I count upon my rosarie brown, the hours thou hast to stay!
Yet God permits us evil ones to put by that decree,
Since if thou hast no need of Him, He has no need of thee—
And if thou wilt forego the sight of angels, verily
Thy true love gazing on thy face, shall guess what angels be—
Nor bride shall pass, save thee" . . . Alas!—my father's hand's acold—
The meadows seem . . .
Evil Spirit.
Forbear the dream, or let the vow be told!