AMPHORA 
V 
 
 
HE shadows fall about the way ; 
 Strange faces glimmer in the gloom ; 
The soul clings feebly to the clay. 
For that, the void ; for this, the tomb ! 
 
But Mary sheds a blessed light ; 
Her perfect face dispels the fears. 
She charms Her melancholy knight 
Up to the glad and gracious spheres. 
 
O Mary, like a pure perfume 
Do thou receive this failing breath, 
And with Thy starry lamp illume 
The darkling corridors of death ! 
Amen. 
T 
7