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A man so great to one so slight, so small!
Mother! this letter 'twixt my hands high held—
I dreamed of it all night; I dreamed a star
Shone ever on the scroll—this precious letter

166

Is full of wisdom as the spring of flowers;
Full as your eyes are full of beams and tears
At times, upon me gazing; as your lips
Are full of sweetness closing upon mine.
How gently bends this seer to teach a child!
I grow to something better. Once I wept
When from the Catacombs they fetched triumphant
Some new-found vial red with Martyr's blood:
This day I fain would share such death! What wonder?
Ere speech was mine you vowed for me a vow
That never sin should stain that chrisom-robe
Which pledged your babe to Christ. Maidens each night
Wear garb as white!—you see how glitters mine
Touched by the rising sun. The vow you made
Each morning I renew. That anchoret grave
Was bound by sterner rule.