Till day-light and the task be done,
Standeth to view his labour’s scene—
Where now, within the hedge-row’s girth,
The little plants untrammeled green
Stripes the brown fabric of the earth.
So when the absolution’s said
Behind the grille, and I may go,
And all the flowers of sin are dead,
And all the stems of sin laid low,
And I am come to Mary’s shrine