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1831–1898

A DIRGE.

Eric Mackay

Art thou lonely in thy tomb? Art thou cold in such a gloom? Rouse thee, then, and make me room,— Miserere Domine!

Phantoms vex thy virgin sleep, Nameless things around thee creep, Yet be patient, do not weep,— Miserere Domine!

O be faithful! O be brave! Naught shall harm thee in thy grave; Let the restless spirits rave,— Miserere Domine!

When my pilgrimage is done, When the grace of God is won, I will come to thee, my nun,— Miserere Domine!

Like a priest in flowing vest, Like a pale, unbidden guest, I will come to thee and rest,— Miserere Domine!

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A DIRGE. · Eric Mackay · Poetry Cove