 | Later Lyrics |  |
146
TO ONE WHO LIES IN FLORENCE.
Shower lilies from the skies
Where our lovely Ladye lies!
Birds of more than mortal tune,
Soothe her rest by night and noon;
Angel loves be softly told
O'er her consecrated mould;
Hearts that noblest strive and mean
At her shrine their comforts glean.
Where our lovely Ladye lies!
Birds of more than mortal tune,
Soothe her rest by night and noon;
Angel loves be softly told
O'er her consecrated mould;
Hearts that noblest strive and mean
At her shrine their comforts glean.
Neither may the sun despise
To salute her where she lies,
Nodding over woods and water
To Apollo's crownèd daughter,
Christian Sappho she, whose verse
Holy loving souls rehearse
That a benediction seek
Pontiffs have not grace to speak;
To salute her where she lies,
Nodding over woods and water
To Apollo's crownèd daughter,
147
Holy loving souls rehearse
That a benediction seek
Pontiffs have not grace to speak;
For her bosom temple sweet
Charity did make complete;
Human passions lost their pride
Ranged before the gentle-eyed;
Sword of meekness pierceth deep,
Bitterest chide the eyes that weep;
And her anger humbled most
Through her pity, never lost.
Charity did make complete;
Human passions lost their pride
Ranged before the gentle-eyed;
Sword of meekness pierceth deep,
Bitterest chide the eyes that weep;
And her anger humbled most
Through her pity, never lost.
Sister, whose fair lot is cast
Where the shadows of the past
And the sunshine of to-day
Interlace on God's highway,
None of all thy joys I'd ask,
Harnessed gladly to my task,
But the parting kiss she gave,
And the pause beside her grave.
Where the shadows of the past
And the sunshine of to-day
Interlace on God's highway,
None of all thy joys I'd ask,
Harnessed gladly to my task,
But the parting kiss she gave,
And the pause beside her grave.
148
Scatter lilies from the skies,
Shower tears from angels' eyes,
Who forget not that their joy
Our contentment doth destroy.
Nought of earth so good and fair
That beside her may compare;
Nought of heaven too purely blest
To infold her sinless rest!
Shower tears from angels' eyes,
Who forget not that their joy
Our contentment doth destroy.
Nought of earth so good and fair
That beside her may compare;
Nought of heaven too purely blest
To infold her sinless rest!
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