Beneath the Veil

HOODED nun, with veilëd eyes,
In whose life the maiden dies,
Unto Christ a sacrifice !

Thou that kneelest at the shrine,
Wedded to the Love Divine,
Making all its sorrows thine :

Passion’s agony and sweat,
Passion’s hour when all forget,
Passion’s cry on Olivet!

On thy brow the crown of sticks,
On thy lips the gall they mix,
On thy breast the crucifix !

Masses sung and incense cold,
Vespers rung and pittance doled,
Beads in pain at midnight told,

Light of windows dim and quaint,
Sight of pale and paneled saint,
Throe of martyr torn and faint,

Are thy joys, O child of prayers !
Child of sorrows ! child of cares!
Ah, that none thy burden shares!

Were I weary, poor, distrest,
Thou, to give me comfort, rest,
Wouldst of all thyself divest ;

Were I raving, fever-tost,
Homeless, friendless, spirit-lost,
Thou wouldst seek me, life the cost;

Were I dying ’mid the dead,
On the field whence all had fled,
Thou wouldst lift my wounded head.

Ah, so tender for His sake,
Living but love’s cause to take,
Thou alone my heart dost break.

Worse am I than travel-worn,
Worse than needy, sick, forlorn,
Battle-spent, or sorrow-torn !

Death were not so dolorous
As to hear thee singing, thus
Lost to me, the Angelus !