This page needs to be proofread.
Then fly, O coward soul,
Delay no more:
What words can speak the joy
For thee in store?
What smiles of earth can tell
Of peace like thine?
Silence and tears are best
For things divine.
THE ANNUNCIATION
By Adelaide Anne Procter
How pure, and frail, and white,
The snowdrops shine!
Gather a garland bright
For Mary's shrine.
For, born of winter snows,
These fragile flowers
Are gifts to our fair Queen
From Spring's first hours.
For on this blessèd day
She knelt at prayer;
When, lo! before her shone
An Angel fair.
"Hail, Mary!" thus he cried,
With reverent fear:
She, with sweet wondering eyes,
Marvelled to hear.
