Classic Poem

The Queen of heaven reclined at meat,
Beside her Son, within the host.
The spikenard revealed its sweet,
Bernard was yielding up his ghost.

Sweet in the palate of the Queen
The suavity of Bernard's fruit.
Sweet in the nostrils of the Queen
The holiness of Bernard's suit.

As she, to take her meat, reclined,
The fruit declared its savour well:
When Bernard's soul left earth behind,
The spikenard did yield its smell.

Sweet this recumbency of one;
Glorious, incomparable taste;
Sweet holy Bernard's life undone,
In holy odours deeply graced.

The bride hath come from Libanon,
To be divinely crowned upon:
So Bernard from the furnace came,
The holy Ghost's refining flame.

Lo, who is this that cometh up
Like dawning on the ocean's cup?
Lo, who doth spring from earthly plaints
To heavenly joys, to shout with saints?

She that is terrible in might
Like armed battalions armour-dight;
He that is wonderful in grace,
Noble like Assuerus' face.

Be thou before the Lord our prayers
Ascending rod of incense smoke;
Incline the Father of the stars,
O burning Shepherd, to thy folk.