Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/85

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.
THE DOOM OF THE PRYNNES.
41


" O misty twilight, grey and wan,
That like a ghost steals darkly on,
And halts not, nor relents ;
I dare not front your visage pale,
Nor come within your solemn veil,
Until my soul repents :

" Repents of woman's need and claims,
Of instincts, passions, holiest aims,
And clinging, beating heart ;
Although I would not have it so,
The spirits will not rise and go
Because I cry, ' Depart.'

" What though I kneel like marble saint,
My very soul grows sick and faint
At thought of such repose ;
My hands may clasp in stony calm,
But, each on each, the throbbing palm
In burning anguish glows.

" Oh, Jesus, son of Mary, hear,
And in Thy plenitude draw near,
And piteously forgive :