‘And I will not give it to you,’ she said,
Quick grasping her burden tight;
And all the souls that surrounded her
Clung closer in dire affright.
The next who stopped her upon her way
Was an angel with sword aflame;
‘The Lord has sent for your load,’ he said:
‘St. Michael it is my name.’
The woman drew back his gown of white,
And the cloven hoof did see.
‘Oh, God be with me this day,’ she said,
‘For bitter my sorrows be.’
‘And I will not give it to you,’ she said,
And wept full many a tear.
And all the souls that her burden made
Cried out in desperate fear.
Now, the spirit of the poor little bride stopped upon her way, and feared to go farther, for she knew not what to do nor where to go, and it seemed as though there were none to trust. And as she stood, with the trembling souls clinging to her, from the far-
