Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!
Sit down beside me here—these are too old,
And have forgotten they were ever young.
MAIRE BRUIN.
O, you are the great door-post of this house,
And I, the red nasturtium, climbing up.
[She takes SHAWN’S hand, but looks shyly at the priest and lets it go.
FATHER HART.
Good daughter, take his hand—by love alone
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth