Chapter 1580 of 1964 · 62 words · ~1 min read

LXI.

But in a higher niche, alone, but crowned, The Virgin-Mother of the God-born Child, With her Son in her blesséd arms, looked round, Spared by some chance when all beside was spoiled: She made the earth below seem holy ground. This may be superstition, weak or wild; But even the faintest relics of a shrine Of any worship wake some thoughts divine.