Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/189

 'Fra'—who was he? I forget— Who could paint Such a woman wholly, and yet Such a saint?

From the dim cathedral height Falls the light; I could think it for a while Christ's smile From the great window-scene above Strangely shed Toward you, resting like Christ's love On your head.

O the splendid purple niche Deep and rich, Stained of the colour of your soul Strong and whole, Full of the prevalence of prayers And piteous plaint You made for men and sins all theirs —You a saint!