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THE WHITE CRUSADE.
41
And some would watch for hours
Beside her tomb, until they seemed to hear
Beneath the winter's ice, the summer's flowers,
A breathing low and clear.

The nations spake: "But who
Shall roll away this heavy stone, by day
And night close sealed and watched?" They came, and lo!
The stone was rolled away!

And clothed in raiment white
From head to feet, was seated on the stone
A Shining Form, that earth had given to light
Without a travail-groan.

No blood on brow or palm,
Or on her robe, but in her steadfast eye,
And on her lips, a summons clear and calm:
"Who loves, knows how to die."

She hath a smile for foes,
A smile for friends; and yet her breast is bare,
And bare her feet, and on the way she goes
Lies the red burning share.

She wakes, perchance to show
Of wounds received in houses of her friends,—to weep.
Like Rachel, o'er her sons brought forth in woe.
Yet nevermore to sleep!