Classic Poem

"He'll come anon," the holy mother said,
And kissed her death-white cheek.
"Now sleep! and while
We swiftly send your gallant page to seek,
Let holy thoughts and dreams the time beguile!"
She woke and lo! he stood 'mong those beside her bed.

She clasped his hand and whispered low. He bent
Once more to hear that voice
He must obey,
E'en though 'twixt life and death, no choice
It might him leave. She only bade him stay
Nor leave her more. The lady mother gave assent.

As flowers to sun respond with blushing hues
And grateful scents distil
Their voiceless praise;
So now as through her veins life's pulses thrill
Amid the breath of flowers and wood-choirs' lays,
She could, no more than they, her hymn of thanks refuse.