When from the porch, I to the altar sped,
I seemed upon some heavenly path to tread.
"On you the deacons and the priests have trod,
Pilgrims who live, forefathers 'neath the sod;
Wood flowers, sweet grains of incense, saintly bones;
By dawn you will restore my spouse and sons."
She ceased her charm; and from the chapel then
She saw approach four bare-foot fishermen.
The aged dame in tears fell on her knees
And cried, "I knew they would escape the seas!"