XXXIII.
So,--no more vain words be said! The hosannas nearer roll. Mother, smile now on thy Dead, I am death-strong in my soul. Mystic Dove alit on cross, Guide the poor bird of the snows Through the snow-wind above loss!
So,--no more vain words be said! The hosannas nearer roll. Mother, smile now on thy Dead, I am death-strong in my soul. Mystic Dove alit on cross, Guide the poor bird of the snows Through the snow-wind above loss!