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THE WHITE CRUSADE.
Like Lazarus from the tomb
She rose, and stood upright; like him a while
She walked with men,—yet on her cheek no bloom,
And on her lip no smile.
She rose, and stood upright; like him a while
She walked with men,—yet on her cheek no bloom,
And on her lip no smile.
As one that sleeping shakes
Beneath a ghastly slumber-coil, will seem
To wake at dead of night, yet only wakes
Into a fearful dream;
Beneath a ghastly slumber-coil, will seem
To wake at dead of night, yet only wakes
Into a fearful dream;
She woke into a world
Of wreck and ruin; winds and waves that roared,
Men's hearts that failed, and goodliest treasures hurled
To monsters overboard.
Of wreck and ruin; winds and waves that roared,
Men's hearts that failed, and goodliest treasures hurled
To monsters overboard.
They called her, but she shrank;
She stretched her hands to bless, and, lo! a stain
Of blood upon each palm! She groaned, and sank
Into her grave again.
She stretched her hands to bless, and, lo! a stain
Of blood upon each palm! She groaned, and sank
Into her grave again.
Yet 'mid the tumult fierce
That gathered as she fell, was faintly heard
From fainting lips—a blessing or a curse—
And yet a treasured word;—
That gathered as she fell, was faintly heard
From fainting lips—a blessing or a curse—
And yet a treasured word;—
And still from land to land
The whisper grew, and still the murmur sped
By look, by sign, by pressure of the hand,
"The maiden is not dead,"
The whisper grew, and still the murmur sped
By look, by sign, by pressure of the hand,
"The maiden is not dead,"
