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272
J. R. E.
AVE MARIA.
Night steals with silent wings
On lower and town,
The darkness creeps and clings
By dale and down,
The stars shine manifold
In Heaven above;
The world is grey and cold—
Give me thy love,
Mater amabilis
Ora pro me!
My heart is dark within
With fear and shame;
What respite may I win
From my self-blame?
I dare not lift mine eyes
To thy pure face—
O Mother, kind and wise,
Give me thy grace,
Mater castissima
Ora pro me!
One silver lamp burns low
Before thy feet,
Dim shadows come and go,
Vague murmurs fleet—
