Page:Demeter and other poems (IA demeterotherpoem00tennrich).pdf/114

 They bore the Cross before you to the chant of funeral hymns.

xiii.
‘Libera me, Domine!’ you sang the Psalm, and when
 The Priest pronounced you dead, and flung the mould upon your feet,
A beauty came upon your face, not that of living men,
 But seen upon the silent brow when life has ceased to beat.

xiv.
‘Libera nos, Domino’—you knew not one was there
 Who saw you kneel beside your bier, and weeping scarce could see;