CHAPTER XLIII
ULTIMA FORSAN
“We brought the holy water for his brow
Who lies before the altar candles now.
. . . . . .
While overhead, with red wings interlaced,
Above the bier of cedar newly sawn
The towering angels bore the cup of dawn.
. . . . . .
But now before the altar lights he lies,
And I, set free beneath the star-strewn skies,