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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


ST. KATHARINE'S TIRING MAID by AUGUSTA DAVIES WEBSTER

First Line: NO LOVING VOICE MAY NAME ME BRIDE
Last Line: THINE HANDMAID TILL I DIE.
Subject(s): CATHERINE, SAINT (1522-1590);

NO loving voice may name me bride,
Thou choosest me for thine,
I bow to thee, my mystic guide,
Thou sweet St. Katharine.

Fair mistress saint, I picture thee
With shadowed golden hair,
And crystal eyes that seem to me
To smile at my weak care;

Word-gifted eyes, not large, full-fringed,
Of life-lit thoughtful grey,
Yet with some hue of heaven tinged,
Grave eyes that could be gay.

Veiled into softness, shadowed
By the encroaching tress,
Thy solemn brow, full-curved, wide-spread,
Wears a grand lowliness.

Thy lips shaped to a ready smile,
Even in their smilings speak;
Thy soul too proud, too high for guile,
So proud, and yet so meek.

Thy cheek not pale, as though from tears,
But with rich rose-bloom glad,
For inward grief vexed not thy years,
Too saintly to be sad.

But deep-joyed Wisdom dowered thy life
With all her love and truth,
And with her hidden sweets made rife
Thy glorious, soaring youth.

And Heaven around thy path lay spread,
And thine enraptured eye
Knew visions of the blessed dead,
Yea, saw the Deity.

Fair saint, I will not, dare not say,
That I have ne'er in thought
Wandered a moment from thy way--
Ah! dreamings dearly bought!

But if I dreamed, the dream is o'er,
And I return to thee,
If with a heart still something sore,
Sweet Katharine, pardon me.

I have been, as thou wouldst me, cold
To many a loving prayer,
Untempted by the gleam of gold,
Unshaken, through thy care.

And if I, weak, have dreamed at last,
Chide thou not, holy one:
The flattering wildfire faded fast,
The false, fair dream is gone.

'Twas but in thought I tuned from thee:
Take back thy votary,
Thou choosest me, and I shall be
Thine handmaid till I die.




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