Classic Poem

I KNOW not what she sang, or if she sang —
Only I know her fingers on the keys
Touched the gold heart of all glad harmonies
Till all my vibrant soul responsive rang;
And on a sudden, through the darkened room,
There seemed an instant's tremor in the air
Of moving wings, and white against the gloom
Soft faces bent to her, divinely fair:
And somewhere were white roses, and there grew
Above her lifted head a slender ring
That glowed and vanished — and she rose, nor knew
The reason of my awe and wondering.

O, I have seen Saint Cecily, and I
Have breathed her roses. I, her worshiper,
Have seen the beauty of Saint Cecily
When angels spake with her.