A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/Sonnet—The Miracle of the Virgin (Louis Ratisbonne)
Sonnet—THE MIRACLE OF THE VIRGIN.
A painter young was painting blessëd Mary
Upon a scaffold—so the legend goes—
High sprung the dome above, a dome of faëry,
Far down below the choir lay tinged with rose;
Of her rich gifts the muse had not been chary,
He loved his art and worked without repose,
But sleep surprised him in an hour unwary,
And the Bad Spirit that no pity knows
With jeering laughter hurled him from his height.
He woke—'Help, help, O Virgin!' And 'tis told,
Out of the canvas stretched an arm of light
To save him. O ye fervent hearts, be bold!
Sleep, fall, ye may, but never perish quite:
Your bright Ideal shall your steps uphold.