In meek seclusion where cathedrals vie, It shuns the shining dome and spires of pride; Content to nestle undiscerned beside The street where wealth and fashion pass it by; A refuge for the spirit's inmost sigh, With prayer's consoling hush to none denied; It keeps the faith for hearts that still confide, Renunciation that no pomps belie. And many pass its portal shrine nor stay The hurried step, impatient of its peace; But when the pageant vanishes with day And all the lures of gain and glory cease, One enters, sad as Dante, long ago, The convent gate of Fra Hilario. |