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XIII. PENITENTIAL SEASONS.

Large as the beads of this dark rosary
Was each successive drop that slowly fell
Down from the Saviour's temples, audible
To the earth's beating heart. O misery!
I had forgotten them! forget not me,
Thou merciful Redeemer. Like a knell
My sinful Past salutes me! Let me dwell
Henceforth in that sad garden, Lord, with Thee.’

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Even thus the Holy Church with lifted palms
On her wet eyelids pressed and forehead pale
Depressed beneath a dusk, funereal veil
Chaunteth all night her penitential psalms:
Nor from her mournful litanies can cease
Until the sun shall rise and give her peace.