Kneeling he spoke the Names he loved the most As the air was fanned by the whir of invisible wings; He seemed like a priest about to breathe on the Host After the Sanctus rings. "This is My Body," he said on his First-Mass Day, When the rose of priesthood slipped its snowy bud, Lifting his chaliced heart now could he say At death, "This is My Blood." Swift as an altar chime the rifles rang. . . . The stole of crimson flowing over his breast, How bright it burned, and how his sealed lips sang The @3Ite, Missa Est!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMERICA by ARTHUR CLEVELAND COXE BRUCE: JAMES OF DOUGLAS by JOHN BARBOUR THE LAST MAN: RECOLLECTION OF EARLY LIFE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FOR THOSE WHO UNDERSTAND by LUCIE PEARSALL CAMPBELL TRUCE IN LOVE ENTREATED by THOMAS CAREW HYMN OF THE TRUE MAN by ALICE CARY DAVIDEIS, A SACRED POEM OF THE TROUBLES OF DAVID: BOOK 2 by ABRAHAM COWLEY |