I KNOW not what she sang, or if she sang -- Only I know her fingers on the keys Touched the gold heart of all glad harmonies Till all my vibrant soul responsive rang; And on a sudden, through the darkened room, There seemed an instant's tremor in the air Of moving wings, and white against the gloom Soft faces bent to her, divinely fair; And somewhere were white roses, and there grew Above her lifted head a slender ring That glowed and vanished -- and she rose, nor knew The reason of my awe and wondering. O, I have seen Saint Cecily, and I Have breathed her roses. I, her worshiper, Have seen the beauty of Saint Cecily When angels spake with her. |