Alone: and thinking that you would not come.
Then, with closed eyes (having received the Host)
I prayed for your dear self, and turned to rise;
When lo! beside me like a blessed ghost—
Nay, a grave sunbeam—you! Scarcely my eyes
Could credit it, so softly had you come
Beside me as I thought I walked alone.
Thus long ago; but now, when fate bereaves
Life of old joys, how often as I’m kneeling
To take the Blessed Sacrifice that weaves