Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsLast Of May
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Last Of May Post by :Theblues Category :Poems Author :Abram Joseph Ryan Date :September 2011 Read :2752

Click below to download : Last Of May (Format : PDF)

Last Of May

To the Children of Mary of the Cathedral of Mobile

In the mystical dim of the temple,
In the dream-haunted dim of the day,
The sunlight spoke soft to the shadows,
And said: "With my gold and your gray,
Let us meet at the shrine of the Virgin,
And ere her fair feast pass away,
Let us weave there a mantle of glory,
To deck the last evening of May."

The tapers were lit on the altar,
With garlands of lilies between;
And the steps leading up to the statue
Flashed bright with the roses' red sheen;
The sun-gleams came down from the heavens
Like angels, to hallow the scene,
And they seemed to kneel down with the shadows
That crept to the shrine of the Queen.

The singers, their hearts in their voices,
Had chanted the anthems of old,
And the last trembling wave of the Vespers
On the far shores of silence had rolled.
And there -- at the Queen-Virgin's altar --
The sun wove the mantle of gold
While the hands of the twilight were weaving
A fringe for the flash of each fold.

And wavelessly, in the deep silence,
Three banners hung peaceful and low --
They bore the bright blue of the heavens,
They wore the pure white of the snow
And beneath them fair children were kneeling,
Whose faces, with graces aglow,
Seemed sinless, in land that is sinful,
And woeless, in life full of woe.

Their heads wore the veil of the lily,
Their brows wore the wreath of the rose,
And their hearts like their flutterless banners,
Were stilled in a holy repose.
Their shadowless eyes were uplifted,
Whose glad gaze would never disclose
That from eyes that are most like the heavens
The dark rain of tears soonest flows.

The banners were borne to the railing,
Beneath them, a group from each band;
And they bent their bright folds for the blessing
That fell from the priest's lifted hand.
And he signed the three fair, silken standards,
With a sign never foe could withstand.
What stirred them? The breeze of the evening?
Or a breath from the far angel-land?

Then came, two by two, to the altar,
The young, and the pure, and the fair,
Their faces the mirror of Heaven,
Their hands folded meekly in prayer;
They came for a simple blue ribbon,
For love of Christ's Mother to wear;
And I believe, with the Children of Mary,
The Angels of Mary were there.

Ah, faith! simple faith of the children!
You still shame the faith of the old!
Ah, love! simple love of the little,
You still warm the love of the cold!
And the beautiful God who is wandering
Far out in the world's dreary wold,
Finds a home in the hearts of the children
And a rest with the lambs of the fold.

Swept a voice: was it wafted from Heaven?
Heard you ever the sea when it sings
Where it sleeps on the shore in the night time?
Heard you ever the hymns the breeze brings
From the hearts of a thousand bright summers?
Heard you ever the bird, when she springs
To the clouds, till she seems to be only
A song of a shadow on wings?

Came a voice: and an "Ave Maria"
Rose out of a heart rapture-thrilled;
And in the embrace of its music
The souls of a thousand lay stilled.
A voice with the tones of an angel,
Never flower such a sweetness distilled;
It faded away -- but the temple
With its perfume of worship was filled.

Then back to the Queen-Virgin's altar
The white veils swept on, two by two;
And the holiest halo of heaven
Flashed out from the ribbons of blue;
And they laid down the wreaths of the roses
Whose hearts were as pure as their hue;
Ah! they to the Christ are the truest,
Whose loves to the Mother are true!

And thus, in the dim of the temple,
In the dream-haunted dim of the day,
The Angels and Children of Mary
Met ere their Queen's Feast passed away,
Where the sun-gleams knelt down with the shadows
And wove with their gold and their gray
A mantle of grace and of glory
For the last lovely evening of May.

(The end)
Abram Joseph Ryan's poem: Last Of May

If you like this book please share to your friends :

'gone' "gone"

S. M. A.Gone! and there's not a gleam of you, Faces that float into far away;Gone! and we can only dream of you Each as you fade like a star away.Fade as a star in the sky from us, Vainly we look for your light again;Hear ye the sound of a sigh from us? "Come!" and our hearts will be bright again.Come! and gaze on our face once more, Bring us the smiles of the olden days;Come! and shine in your place once more, And change the dark into golden days.Gone! gone! gone! Joy is fled for us; Gone into

A Child's Wish A Child's Wish

A Child's Wish
Before an AltarI wish I were the little key That locks Love's Captive in,And lets Him out to go and free A sinful heart from sin.I wish I were the little bell That tinkles for the Host,When God comes down each day to dwell With hearts He loves the most.I wish I were the chalice fair, That holds the Blood of Love,When every flash lights holy prayer Upon its way above.I wish I were the little flower So near the Host's sweet face,Or like the light that half an hour Burns on the shrine of grace.I wish I were the altar