This page has been validated.
SISTER MARIE
She pointed where upon the hill
There frowned the old grey convent wall,
And there I saw half pictured still,
A holy cross rise red and tall.
Down on her knees the fair child bent,
"And pity her, dear Lord," she cried—
On through the vale the strange stream went.
"Ah! pity me, dear Lord," it sighed.
33
