“That hour is nigh,” they answered; he replied,
“Then let us wait that hour,” and laid him down
With those kine-tending and harp-mastering hands
Crossed on his breast, and slept.
Meanwhile the monks
(The lights removed in reverence of his sleep)
Sat mute nor stirred such time as in the Mass
Between “Orate Fratres” glides away,
And “Hoc est Corpus Meum.” Northward far
The great deep, seldom heard so distant, roared