Our Lady of May And Other Poems By Emily Hickey |
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| XVIII. | XVIII—He Appears to His Mother |
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XVIII—He Appears to His Mother
Sleep, Mary Mother, sleep! O thou, o'er whom
Those awful billows of His Passion rolled,
Sleep while the Shepherd to His underfold
Hath gone, to lighten with His light its gloom:
O Mary, Him thou borest in thy womb,
Thy Child, thy God, full soon thou wilt behold!
And not in vision; no, nor white and cold,
As thou didst leave Him lying in the tomb.
Those awful billows of His Passion rolled,
Sleep while the Shepherd to His underfold
Hath gone, to lighten with His light its gloom:
O Mary, Him thou borest in thy womb,
Thy Child, thy God, full soon thou wilt behold!
And not in vision; no, nor white and cold,
As thou didst leave Him lying in the tomb.
Wake, Mary Mother, wake! What light is shed
Around thee? Oh, not yet the saints astir
May greet God's Easter dawn of ecstasy:
To thee He comes, the Firstborn from the dead;
Thou wilt not seek His empty sepulchre;
Thy Son, thy Love, thy Life, is here with thee.
Around thee? Oh, not yet the saints astir
May greet God's Easter dawn of ecstasy:
To thee He comes, the Firstborn from the dead;
Thou wilt not seek His empty sepulchre;
Thy Son, thy Love, thy Life, is here with thee.
| Our Lady of May And Other Poems | |