See where my lady stands,
Lifting her lustrous hands,—
Here let me bow.
Image of truth and grace!
Maid with the angel-face!
Earth was no dwelling-place
For such as thou.
Ah, thou unhappy stone,
Make now thy sorrows known;
Make known thy longing.
Thou art the form of one
Whom I, with hopes undone,
Buried at set of sun,—
All the friends thronging.
Thou art some Vision bright
Lost out of Heaven at night,
Far from thy race.
Oft when the others dance,
Come I, with wistful glance,
Fearful lest thou, perchance,
Leave the dark place.
No! thou wilt never flee,
Earth has a charm for thee;—
Why should we sever?
Years have I seen thee so,
Making pretence to go,
Lifting thine arms of snow,—
Voiceless for ever!
Here bring I all my cares,
Here dream and say my prayers
While the bells toll.
O thou beloved saint!
Let not my courage faint,
Let not a shame, or taint,
Injure my soul!