Almoner, An

Who is this? An almoner
By the lovely stoop of her,
By her smiling, by her quick
Footstep as she sought the sick.
'Tis a lovely almoner.
But I ask not speech with her;
I am going to my grave-bed,
Something from my heart there smote —
" Coins for Charon's ferry-boat,
Coins, give me coins for my dead."

Fiercely did I press my tolls,
And the figure changed its pace,
Drew a veil across the face,
Left me with my pagan-tongue:
And a whispering came along —
" I am Mary of the Holy Souls."
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