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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
X. THE PENITENT.
From grave to grave I pace inwardly sighing‘Is not this place for my repentance meet?’
Borne through dark boughs the night-winds unreplying
The unanswered question mournfully repeat.
To you I turn, under the damp grass lying,
O Friends; and pray you from your dusk retreat
To breathe a spirit of sorrow holy and sweet
Over this heart dried up, in silence dying.
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'Mid dust with tears of thine so often blent
Give me one gush of thy perpetual weeping,
Holy Saint Mary, ever penitent!
Night after night fresh dews revive the flowers:
Ah! that one Baptism should alone be ours!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |