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Rh " O misty twilight, grey and wan, That like a ghost steals darkly on, And halts not, nor relents ; I dare not front your visage pale, Nor come within your solemn veil, Until my soul repents : " Repents of woman's need and claims, Of instincts, passions, holiest aims, And clinging, beating heart ; Although I would not have it so, The spirits will not rise and go Because I cry, ' Depart.' " What though I kneel like marble saint, My very soul grows sick and faint At thought of such repose ; My hands may clasp in stony calm, But, each on each, the throbbing palm In burning anguish glows. " Oh, Jesus, son of Mary, hear, And in Thy plenitude draw near, And piteously forgive :