Saints in Sussex

by Sheila Kaye-Smith

Now Thou hast come to the end of Thy pilgrimage, Lord;

Thy lamp glows red like a star at the dim lane’s turning:

The bread and the wine of Thy supper are set in the shadows,

And the gleam of Thy cottage calls toilers and wanderers home.

In the feathery green of the hedges the chervil is blooming—

Petals and wafers of scent, like the Host in a dream....

The night wind is singing the Mass of Thy living and dying,

O Pilgrim of Love, Who at last hast come to Thy shrine.

Thou art at peace. At Thy journey’s end Thou sittest,

Thy cheek on Thy folded hands, before Thee the bread and wine,