Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/98

Rh “Most Just and Merciful, set free From Purgatory's awful night This sinner's soul, to fly to Thee, And rest for ever in Thy sight.”

The Mass is over—still the clerk Kneels pallid in the morning glow. He said, “From evils of the dark Oh, bless me, father, ere you go.

“Benediction, that I may rest. For all night did the banshee weep.” The priest raised up his hands and blest— “Go now, my child, and you will sleep.”

The priest went down the vestry stair, He laid his vestments in their place, And turned—a pale ghost met him there, With beads of pain upon his face.

“Brother,” he said, “you have gained me peace. But why so long did you know my tears, And say no Mass for my soul's release. To save the torture of all those years?”

“God rest you, brother,” the good priest said, “No years have passed—but a single night.” He showed the body uncoffinèd. And the six wax candles still alight.

The living flowers on the dead man's breast Blew out a perfume sweet and strong. The spirit paused ere he passed to rest— “God save your soul from a night so long.”