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A Ballad of a Nun
No question did the warder ask:
Her ragged robe, her shrunken limb,
Her dreadful eyes! "It is no mask;
It is a she-wolf, gaunt and grim!"
Her ragged robe, her shrunken limb,
Her dreadful eyes! "It is no mask;
It is a she-wolf, gaunt and grim!"
She ran across the icy plain;
Her worn blood curdled in the blast;
Each footstep left a crimson stain;
The white-faced moon looked on aghast.
Her worn blood curdled in the blast;
Each footstep left a crimson stain;
The white-faced moon looked on aghast.
She said between her chattering jaws,
"Deep peace is mine, I cease to strive;
Oh, comfortable convent laws,
That bury foolish nuns alive!
"Deep peace is mine, I cease to strive;
Oh, comfortable convent laws,
That bury foolish nuns alive!
"A trowel for my passing-bell,
A little bed within the wall,
A coverlet of stones; how well
I there shall keep the Carnival!"
A little bed within the wall,
A coverlet of stones; how well
I there shall keep the Carnival!"
Like tired bells chiming in their sleep,
The wind faint peals of laughter bore;
She stopped her ears and climbed the steep,
And thundered at the convent door.
The wind faint peals of laughter bore;
She stopped her ears and climbed the steep,
And thundered at the convent door.
It opened straight: she entered in,
And at the wardress' feet fell prone:
"I come to purge away my sin,
Bury me, close me up in stone."
And at the wardress' feet fell prone:
"I come to purge away my sin,
Bury me, close me up in stone."
The
