"Some through the long Wars of the Roses faded;
Some did walk barefoot to the Holy Land;
Some show young faces with the bride's-veil
shaded;
Some touch me with the nun's all-gracious hand;
"Some in the purple with crown-jewels burning,
Some in the peasant's hodden-gray go by,
Some in forlornest prisons darkly yearning
For earth and grass, the dove's wing and the
sky.