200
Two chants.
Over her calm face a radiance immortal
Flows from the smile at her mouth's silent portal—
They who kneel round her from matins till even,
As they kneel at the tombs of the blessed in Heaven,
Think not to question that presence resplendent
Where fled the soul that is shining ascendant.
Flows from the smile at her mouth's silent portal—
They who kneel round her from matins till even,
As they kneel at the tombs of the blessed in Heaven,
Think not to question that presence resplendent
Where fled the soul that is shining ascendant.
Down from the gray clouds the March winds are swooping,
Out of the low soil pale phantoms are trooping;
Lift on the wings of St. Agatha's choir
The great "De Profundis" rolls solemnly higher—
Under the light of the tapers is lying
One whom keen anguish made ready for dying.
Out of the low soil pale phantoms are trooping;
Lift on the wings of St. Agatha's choir
The great "De Profundis" rolls solemnly higher—
Under the light of the tapers is lying
One whom keen anguish made ready for dying.
Sorrow, that writes with the pen of an angel
God's burning thoughts through her mystic evangel;
Passion, that, laden with memories tender,
Crowns himself king with their tropical splendour;
Weeping repentance with hands lifted palely—
These were the spirits that walked with her daily.
God's burning thoughts through her mystic evangel;
Passion, that, laden with memories tender,
Crowns himself king with their tropical splendour;
Weeping repentance with hands lifted palely—
These were the spirits that walked with her daily.
Death, creeping near while she knelt in devotion,
Froze on her features their mournful emotion.
Froze on her features their mournful emotion.
