A form stood by her in the night, A human presence near her Spoke one low word of pitying grace, A name once uttered face to face, When none was ever dearer -- Like oil upon the raging flame That burned within her heart, it came, That word of soft approving; The first soft word that struck her ears, Through all the long and dreary years, Of human or of loving. At once the barred gate opens wide, They pass within it, side by side -- The human hand still leading; Up through the ruined aisle they go, When from the altar, still and slow, Like angels onward treading, Came seven fair spirits robed in white, Each holding high a torch, whose light Lit all the dark with splendour; And the heavy air around was stirred, As if from an AEolian chord, With music low and tender. "We come from God," they murmured low, "Thy unborn children, seven, To break the bonds of thy bitter woe And lead thee back to Heaven. Thy tears have washed away thy crime, Thou hast repented while 'tis time, The sinner is forgiven! "The bond is loosed, the doom is done, We come to thee, thou sinning one, With words of peace and pardon; And as a sign of mercy lay Upon thee on thy dying day A lily as God's guerdon." She sank before them on the ground, With folded palms and hair unbound, And eyes upraised to Heaven. Her pale lips moved as if to pray, But one low murmured word they say -- "Forgiven! oh, forgiven!" And lo! while yet the shadows speak, A dove with lily in its beak, A snow-white dove, came floating in, Along the silver line of light, And laid upon that breast of sin A spotless lily, pure and white. Then bending low at Erick's feet, As if before the Mercy-seat, "Pardon!" she said, "by God's own sign, I claim from thee that word divine Before the Judgment-day; Bend lower down, and yet more low, That I may feel thy soft tears flow To wash my sin away." He took her hand as an angel might, A dying soul to save, And his tears fell fast as a holy chrism, Anointing her for the grave -- He kissed her brow to still her fears, Ere yet her eyes grew dim: The curse is broken, she but hears His pardon -- sees but him. The damp of death is on her brow, The last death-strain is over now, The suffering soul hath fled. The solemn shadows slowly wane, And nought within the church remain Save Erick and the dead. They laid her 'neath the altar stair -- Thus Erick gave command -- Wrapped in her shroud of golden hair, The lily in her hand. And standing in the Holy place, With solemn voice he said: I do recall the bitter curse I poured upon her head. Let the dead bells toll for the sinning soul, Repentant, saved, forgiven; By the dread remorse of that pallid corpse, We feel that her sin is shriven. She stands before the Mercy-seat, If human prayers can waft her, And by that angel sign 'tis meet We trust in God's Hereafter. MORAL. God give us grace, each in his place, To keep from sin and sinning: Our souls we sell for gifts from Hell, That are not worth the winning. False smiles that lure but to betray, False gold some demon flashes, False hopes that lead from Heaven astray, False fruit that turns to ashes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GULF by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TO PFRIMMER (LINES ON READING 'DRIFTWOOD') by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HARVEST SONG by LUDWIG HENRICH CHRISTOPH HOLTY THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE DEATH AND CUPID; AN ALLEGORY by JOHN GODFREY SAXE DEATH AND THE LADY; THEIR BARGAIN TOLD AGAIN by LEONIE ADAMS |