Page:Poems by Cushag.djvu/47

45 And on a day the mourners go,
 * And hymns are sung and prayers are said,

And in the Churchyard's hallowed ground
 * They leave one more among the dead.

And should they grudge her hallowed ground
 * That knew not what despair was hers,

Nor dreamed what madness found her there
 * In that lone Keeill among the furze?

So mass was sung and prayers were said,
 * And tender hearts wept tears of pain.

Perchance such tears might help to cleanse
 * A hopeless soul from sinful stain.

Sad fate was hers; yet might she hope,
 * Though ages long must pass before,

Through prayers and fears and burning tears
 * At last to reach the heavenly door.

And then–when purged by cleansing fires
 * She trembles toward the distant light,

Will she not think of that poor babe
 * Thrust out to wander through the night!