 | The bridal of Vaumond |  |
XIX.
They led the lady, journeying light,Where the convent's open gates invite;
They left her by her father's bier,
Wet with a daughter's holy tear.
| The bridal of Vaumond | |
Where the convent's open gates invite;
They left her by her father's bier,
Wet with a daughter's holy tear.