Page:Andromeda, and other poems - Kingsley (1858).djvu/125

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
SAINT MAURA.
113
And after that for ever and for ever!Ah! If I could but reach that hand! One touch!One finger tip, to send the thrill through meI felt but yesterday!--No! I can wait:—Another body!--Oh, new limbs are ready,Free, pure, instinct with soul through every nerve,Kept for us in the treasuries of God.They will not mar the love they try to speak,They will not fail my soul, as these have done!*****Will you hear more? Nay—you know all the rest:Yet those poor eyes—alas! they could not seeMy waking, when you hung above me thereWith hands outstretched to bless the penitent—Your penitent—even like The Lord Himself—I gloried in you!—like The Lord Himself!Sharing His very sufferings, to the crownOf thorns which they had put on that dear browTo make you like Him—show you as you were!I told them so! I bid them look on you,
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.