Classic Poem

There , by the man condemn'd to die, she read
Christ's promise in the Crucifixion tale.
He moan'd a name — —
She dropp'd her cross and fled
From the long shadow of the veil!

And, as from her loosed convent coif she shook
Her youthful hair's free length of beauty, he
Threw from his face the scarr'd and sinful look,
And follow'd her across the sea!

There, in a Land of Distance vague with Spring,
She, fair as that one morning-bud she wore,
Held him her frighten'd hand to take — — the ring
They found upon his prison floor!

" The ring was full of poison " — so they said;
" A Sister of Mercy left it at his side! "
The gathering crowd must know the wretch was dead.
Nor blame his jailer that he died.

Perhaps their prisoner gray and ghastly lay;
Perhaps the black-robed Sister, worn and bow'd,
Who pray'd there with that prisoner yesterday,
Was at St. Mary's in her shroud.

Yet, in some Land of Distance full of Spring,
Whither their Youth of Love had pass'd before,
He gave her hand the spirit of the ring
They found upon his prison floor!