Poems (Scudder)/The Miracle
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THE MIRACLE
Old Gregory of Tours relates with pride
Of how within the royal chapel hung
Above the tomb of one who died full young—
Murdered, some thought—the grim king's gentle bride,
A lamp swan-shapen of rock-crystal hard
With eyes of sapphire. From the chains it fell—
Nor was—oh, passing strange the miracle—
The frail glass shattered, nor the marble marred.
In my heart's chapel hangs above the tomb
Of a slain love a lamp of tender ray;
And may all pitying saints grant this to me—
Unspilt its fragrant oil may warm the gloom,
And may its fragile grace endure alway
O'er the hard marble of Reality.
Of how within the royal chapel hung
Above the tomb of one who died full young—
Murdered, some thought—the grim king's gentle bride,
A lamp swan-shapen of rock-crystal hard
With eyes of sapphire. From the chains it fell—
Nor was—oh, passing strange the miracle—
The frail glass shattered, nor the marble marred.
In my heart's chapel hangs above the tomb
Of a slain love a lamp of tender ray;
And may all pitying saints grant this to me—
Unspilt its fragrant oil may warm the gloom,
And may its fragile grace endure alway
O'er the hard marble of Reality.