Years passed. And where that lowly hermitage Stood forest-screen'd, a Fane of Peace uprose Where desolate souls their sorrows might assuage. Its first loved Abbess her brief reign did close In deeds that live and lighten every Age.— In hands like hers God's charities repose.— The knight long after wed his Guillardun. And love grown perfect did their days attune. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIGH PLAINS RAG by JAMES GALVIN SHE WEEPS OVER RAHOON by JAMES JOYCE THE ROAD TO AVIGNON by AMY LOWELL |