Classic Poem

Blind , seeing, dead: good night, Elizabeth!
Thou didst not see and slipped on holy ground.
Thy sight restored thou sawest falsehood's death
And owned thy slip though ever bled thy wound.
Death! Thou art Saviour to all women found
In nature's field! Thou writest in the dust
And draw'st them to thee in repentance sound
When priests and congregations stone their trust!
In that great day when graves give up and must
All shames be owned, matron! Thou wilt be wise
Who faced the world and out by it was thrust
To stand with Magdalen in Paradise;
Aye! and with Mary of supernal fame
Whom Heaven o'ershadowed ere it overcame.