THE LOVER SPEAKS TO THE HEARERS OF HIS SONGS IN COMING DAYS
 
 O WOMEN, kneeling by your altar-rails long hence,
 When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,
 And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air
 And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;
 Bend down and pray for all that sin I wove in song,
 Till the Attorney for Lost Souls cry her sweet cry,
 And.call to my beloved and me:  "No longer fly
 Amid the hovering, piteouS, penitential throng.'