46
Maddalena's confession.
Holy Teresa, who stood face to face
With Mary's Son, and carried to the tomb
Remembrance of the vision. When I read
How, laying down love, wealth, the pride of birth,
Bowing her shoulders for the cross, this one
Frail Nun obtained a Saint's repute, becoming
Founder of monasteries, and of a host
The spiritual mother, all my soul
Thrilled with the rapturous history. I could dream
Only of mysteries; or, if light shapes
Beckoned me to the world, there slid between
Visions of her who o'er, an open book
Hung pondering steadfastly; one pale, fair hand
Outspread upon the page, and one that held
Her brow within its hollow. Womanhood
Came, and my heart's betraying echoes scarce
Answered her loitering footfall. Life grew vague.
Nothing approached me nearly.
The first star
Was a true prophet of thy step, Jacopo!
My visions fled when up the flinty paths
His courser's hoof struck flashes. With a smile
With Mary's Son, and carried to the tomb
Remembrance of the vision. When I read
How, laying down love, wealth, the pride of birth,
Bowing her shoulders for the cross, this one
Frail Nun obtained a Saint's repute, becoming
Founder of monasteries, and of a host
The spiritual mother, all my soul
Thrilled with the rapturous history. I could dream
Only of mysteries; or, if light shapes
Beckoned me to the world, there slid between
Visions of her who o'er, an open book
Hung pondering steadfastly; one pale, fair hand
Outspread upon the page, and one that held
Her brow within its hollow. Womanhood
Came, and my heart's betraying echoes scarce
Answered her loitering footfall. Life grew vague.
Nothing approached me nearly.
The first star
Was a true prophet of thy step, Jacopo!
My visions fled when up the flinty paths
His courser's hoof struck flashes. With a smile
