 | Carmina crucis |  |
[I.]
So spake the hoary thyme,
Half hidden in the grass:
I watch from morning prime
Until my Lord shall pass.
Half hidden in the grass:
I watch from morning prime
Until my Lord shall pass.
How bright beneath the sun,
How sweet within the glade,
The flow'rets ope, each one
Beloved by Him who made
His flowers that live in light,
His flowers that live in shade.
How sweet within the glade,
The flow'rets ope, each one
Beloved by Him who made
His flowers that live in light,
His flowers that live in shade.
The primroses are pale,
Yet fair; the violet grows
Beneath her leafy veil,
And be she pale none knows,
Or be she fair, so sweet her soul that overflows.
Yet fair; the violet grows
Beneath her leafy veil,
And be she pale none knows,
Or be she fair, so sweet her soul that overflows.
120
But all my head is strew'd
With ashes grey; and bent
Beneath the footfall rude,
Steals forth my timid scent,
Crush'd from a leaf that curls its wound to hide content.
With ashes grey; and bent
Beneath the footfall rude,
Steals forth my timid scent,
Crush'd from a leaf that curls its wound to hide content.
Why should my Lord delight
In me? Behold how fair
His garden is! How bright
His roses blowing there;
His lilies all like queens, that know not toil nor care,
In me? Behold how fair
His garden is! How bright
His roses blowing there;
His lilies all like queens, that know not toil nor care,
In white calm peace on high
Each rears a blossom'd rod;
The gentian low doth lie,
Yet lifts from up the sod
An eye of steadfast blue, that looks up straight to God.
Each rears a blossom'd rod;
The gentian low doth lie,
Yet lifts from up the sod
An eye of steadfast blue, that looks up straight to God.
I wait my Lord to greet,
I can but love and sigh;
I watch his eye to meet,
He can but pass me by;
And if his hasty feet
Should crush me, it were sweet
Beneath his feet to die.
I can but love and sigh;
I watch his eye to meet,
121
And if his hasty feet
Should crush me, it were sweet
Beneath his feet to die.
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