The Prisoner of Love :: :: University of Virginia Library

It was nigh morning
And the grey glimmer of a sea of pearls,
When the great flag of darkness slowly furls,
And earth's adorning
Looks like the moonrise on a maiden's curls;
Who walks a Vestal
Forth from the gateways of some conquered sin
And vices festal,
And keeps like life the sacred fire within
And knows that only God is now akin.
Yet was I flying,
From the Lord's trust and Love and glorious dying.

Betwixt the gleaming
And gloom that faded back in sullen pride
With rolling waves of a reluctant tide,
But not in dreaming,
I was aware of Some One at my side.
An awful shimmer
Broke on the shadows of my faithless way;
The world waxed dimmer
Beneath another Light and better Day,
And the soft wind ceased from its prattling play;
A sudden vision,
Fell on my heart, that loathed its base decision.

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And then the calling
Of my most beautiful and Blessèd Lord
Fell on mine ears, and touched a tender chord
With holy thralling—
And through my soul cut anguish like a sword.
For He had trusted
These hands to hold a precious charge for Him,
Not as I lusted;
Though in the swelling waters I might swim,
Or see new terrors waxing close and grim.
Yet at the trial,
I shrank in shame and offered but denial.