Classic Poem

A LONE within the woodland chapel,
Outstretched before the Virgin's shrine,
A gentle pallid youth was lying,
Bowed in deep humility—

Oh, Madonna! let me ever
Kneel here lowly on thy threshold:
Never, never, drive me from thee
To the world so cold and sinful.

Oh, Madonna! bright are waving
Round thy head the radiant tresses;
Gracious smiles are playing over
The sacred roses of thy mouth—

Oh, Madonna! thine eyes lighten
On me, like the stars in Heaven.
Mortal ships may lead us falsely,
Star-light leads us always safely.
Oh, Madonna! without shrinking
Have I borne the pangs of ordeal:
In thy pure love blindly trusting,
Ardent only in thine ardour—
Oh, Madonna! this day hear me,
Thou so full of grace and wonder,
Grant to me one sign of favour,
But one little sign of favour!

Then a marvel occurred that all hearts would astound:
The wood and the chapel sank into the ground.
The youth was bewildered, nor knew what was done,
For all things around him were changed or were gone.

In amazement himself in a gay hall he found—
Our Lady sate there—with no rays was she crowned—
She was changed to a maiden, all lovely and bright,
Who greeted and smiled with frank youthful delight.

And from her golden tresses, there,
She clipped one radiant lock of hair,
“Take it,” she cried, in tones like Heaven,
“No higher prize on earth is given.”
What was witness to this vision?
Look how hues of flame are streaming
Over the blue vault Elysian,
Like the rainbow, brightly gleaming—
Angels, mounting and descending,
Rustling beat their waving pinions,
And celestial songs are sending
Harmonies from Heaven's dominions.
And the youth hath heard and heeded;
Now full well he knows
What strange yearning draws him ever
Where the myrtle blows.