By the sainted sisters there;
While their heaven-taught voices softly rise
Like an incense cloud to the silent skies.
The maidens have risen, with noiseless tread
They glide o'er the marble floor;
They seek the abbess with bended head,—
"Thy blessing we would implore,
Dear mother! for ere the coming day
Shall burst into light, we must hence away."
The abbess hath lifted her gentle hands,