With cowl, and scapular, and rosary,
On to the sainted oriel, where stood,
By the rich altar, a fair sisterhood—
A weeping group of virgins!—one or two
Bent forward to a bier of solemn hue,
Whereon a bright and stately coffin lay,
With its black pall flung over:—Agathè
Was on the lid—a name. And who? No more!
’Twas only Agathè.
’Tis o’er, ’tis o’er—