Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/189

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'Fra'—who was he? I forget—
            Who could paint
Such a woman wholly, and yet
            Such a saint?

From the dim cathedral height
            Falls the light;
I could think it for a while
            Christ's smile
From the great window-scene above
            Strangely shed
Toward you, resting like Christ's love
            On your head.

O the splendid purple niche
            Deep and rich,
Stained of the colour of your soul
            Strong and whole,
Full of the prevalence of prayers
            And piteous plaint
You made for men and sins all theirs
            —You a saint!