SNOW-STAINS
| The snow had
fallen and fallen from heaven, Unnoticed in the night, As o'er the sleeping sons of God Floated the manna white; And still, though small flowers crystalline Blanched all the earth beneath, Angels with busy hands above Renewed the airy wreath; When, white amid the falling flakes, And fairer far than they, Beside her wintry casement hoar A dying woman lay. "More pure than yonder virgin snow From God comes gently down, I left my happy country home," She sighed, "to seek the town, More foul than yonder drift shall turn, Before the sun is high, Downtrodden and defiled of men, More foul," she wept, "am I." "Yet, as in midday might confessed, Thy good sun's face of fire Draws the chaste spirit of the snow To meet him from the mire, Lord, from this leprous life in death Lift me, Thy Magdalene, That rapt into Redeeming Light I may once more be clean." |