I think some saint of Eirinn wandering far Found you and brought you here -- Demoiselles! For so I greet you in this alien air! And like those maidens who were only known In their own land as daughters of the King, Children of Charlemagne -- You have, by following that pilgrim-saint, Become high vot'resses -- You have made your palace -- beauty dedicate, And your pomp serviceable: You stand beside our folds! I think you came from some old Roman land -- Most alien, but most Catholic you are: Your purple is the purple that enfolds, In Passion Week, the Shrine, Your scarlet is the scarlet of the wounds: You bring before our walls, before our doors, Lamps of the Sanctuary; And in this stony place The time the robin sings, Through your bells rings the Angelus! |