The sweetly chanted evening hymn.
II.
Low at Our Lady's spotless feet
A white-robed woman kneels in prayer:
The Deus Meus murmurs sweet,
While Glorias throb on perfumed air;
Before the circling altar-rail
She breathes her Aves soft and low—
The golden hair beneath her veil
Wreathed like a glory on her brow.