HER CROSS AND MINE.
93
She was a lovely, restless thing,
With time in blossom at her feet,
And on her hand the enchanted ring
Whose promise always is so sweet.
With time in blossom at her feet,
And on her hand the enchanted ring
Whose promise always is so sweet.
I was a nun. My fearless eyes
Had looked their last on youth. I guessed
At something quiet in the skies,
And veiled my face against the rest.
Had looked their last on youth. I guessed
At something quiet in the skies,
And veiled my face against the rest.
My cross was dark and darkly stained,
Even from the heart of one who died:—
Invisible drops of blood had rained
Thereon, when love was crucified.
Even from the heart of one who died:—
Invisible drops of blood had rained
Thereon, when love was crucified.
That laughing girl could pity me,
Because she fancied from my cross
The world had fallen. Such as she
Still think to lose the world—is loss!
Because she fancied from my cross
The world had fallen. Such as she
Still think to lose the world—is loss!
Yet, heavier is her cross than mine,
For in the fatal jewels there
(Oh, will she ask for help divine?)
I know she has the world to bear.
For in the fatal jewels there
(Oh, will she ask for help divine?)
I know she has the world to bear.
