Page:Dreams and Images.djvu/95

 OUR LADY'S DEATH

And didst thou die, dear Mother of our Life? Sin had no part in thee; then how should death? Methinks, if aught the great tradition saith Could wake in loving hearts a moment's strife (I said—my own with her new image rife),

'Twere this. And yet 'tis certain, next to faith Thou didst lie down to render up thy breath: Though after the seventh sword, no meaner knife

Could pierce that bosom. No, nor did: no sting Of pain was there; but only joy. The love, So long thy life ecstatic, and restrained From setting free thy soul, now gave it wing; Thy body, soon to reign with it above, Radiant and fragrant, as in trance, remained.

VIGIL OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

A sword of silver cuts the fields asunder— A silver sword to-night, a lake in June— And plains of snow reflect, the maples under, The silver arrows of a wintry noon.