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 THE FRIAR OF GENOA

In Genoa a friar walked; Of every sacred tale he talked; Alone he dwelt, in prayer he knelt; "Ave Maria, Ave Maria!" From dawn till dusk he sang.

His bruised and blistered feet were bare; His head burned in the sunlight's glare. On stones he slept, and worked and wept, "Ave Maria, Ave Maria!" In every blow or pang.

Out of his dole he clothed the poor, And every hardship did endure; He blessed the meek and nursed the weak "Ave Maria, Ave Maria!" With each succeeding day.

And begged for alms for those in need, A kind word spoke with every deed, With sinners dined and led the blind— "Ave Maria, Ave Maria!" Until he passed away.

And is his work done? Ah, surprise! Out of the tomb where low he lies A perfume blows, as of a rose: "Ave Maria, Ave Maria!" It sings in shade or sun.