TWO VEILS.
From the nun's wan life a buried passion
Blossomed like a grave-rose in her face;
"Sweet, my child," she said, "in what fair fashion
Do you mean to wear this lovely lace?
Blossomed like a grave-rose in her face;
"Sweet, my child," she said, "in what fair fashion
Do you mean to wear this lovely lace?
"Thus?"—and, with a feverish hand and shaken,
Round her head the precious veil she wound.
"Faith in man," she said, "I have forsaken;
Faith in God most surely I have found.
Round her head the precious veil she wound.
"Faith in man," she said, "I have forsaken;
Faith in God most surely I have found.
"Yet with music in the dewy distance,
And the whole world flowering at my feet,
Through this convent-garment's dark resistance
Backward I can hear my fierce heart beat.
And the whole world flowering at my feet,
Through this convent-garment's dark resistance
Backward I can hear my fierce heart beat.
"Tropic eyes too full of light and languor,
Northern soul too grey with Northern frost:
Ashes—ashes after fires of anger!
Love and beauty—what a world I lost?"
Northern soul too grey with Northern frost:
Ashes—ashes after fires of anger!
Love and beauty—what a world I lost?"
