PS 3505 
 .L387 
 
 V5 
 1918 
 iCopV ^ 
 
 ^be MBion 
 
 BURDE BAXTER CLARIS 
 
Zhc IDfsion 
 
 Burbe Baxter (Tlatfte 
 
 G>pyright November 14, 1918 
 

 NOV 16 J9I8 
 
 ©CU50740? 
 
 'WO 
 
Zbc IDision 
 
 Pacing with quiet tread the garden path, 
 
 A sombre nun caressed her rosary. 
 
 The sunshine shed about her golden bands 
 
 And dappled shadows where the shrubbery grew. 
 
 The ivy-covered walls beside her path 
 
 Gave shelter to a host of happy birds. 
 
 The fountain tinkled softly and the sun 
 
 Made myriad jewels of the drops of spray; 
 
 While in the basin cool the fishes sped 
 
 Like golden arrows through the water fern. 
 
 A moment here she paused, as one by one 
 
 The ebon beads slipped through her childlike hands ; 
 
 Then journeyed on past some quaint outdoor shrine 
 
 Where coldly sweet its marble saint looked down 
 
 From rocky niche beside the garden path 
 
 In quiet benediction on the nun. 
 
 She loved this garden with its holy calm; 
 The faint sweet perfume of its many flowers, 
 The glossy ivy o'er its walls festooned; 
 And thought while resting in its grateful shade 
 That if in all the world peace might be found, 
 *Twould be within the quiet cloister here. 
 
 But life today had seemed inadequate; 
 
 Its greatest mission only half fulfilled. 
 
 Some measure, though, there was of recompense; 
 
Some hidden chord that thrilled to aching need, 
 
 Responsive to the touch of kindred pain, 
 
 Like some rude storm-swept harp the wind plays on. 
 
 The children sought her and the dumb things, too, 
 
 With wistful eyes invited sympathy. 
 
 For her the lilies of the cloister bloomed 
 
 And mothers brought their babes for her caress ; 
 
 Though Love had passed her way, with quiet mien, 
 She, knowing, watched him go. His journey led 
 Toward Beauty's shrine whereat he worshipped long. 
 Until her heart grown sick from hope deferred 
 Had turned to Heaven to seek surcease from pain. 
 And then the cloister door had closed behind 
 And Youth and Joy and Gladness were shut out; 
 Nor had the Peace she sought within these walls 
 Yet come to soothe the soul of burning pain. 
 
 Renunciation! None but God above 
 Could know the price of self that she had paid; 
 The anguished nights, the dawns of tuneless mirth 
 Made glad with lilt of bird and budding flower. 
 For all His creatures save herself alone ! 
 
 The beads had all been told. With reverent hands 
 The rude dark cross to quivering lips was pressed ; 
 A prayer of anguish, yet so gently breathed 
 None save the flowers and her God could hear: 
 **Lord let Thy servant live henceforth for Thee ; 
 Take from her heart all earthborn thoughts and may 
 Her best endeavor be Thy ministry. 
 And if sometimes her erring mind should stray 
 To that dim past of human love and hope 
 Forgive, O Father! Let her be content 
 
That Thy love fills her earthly father's place, 
 
 That of the tender mother Thou hast called 
 
 And that of him who found in her no grace. 
 
 And since in Thine own wisdom infinite, 
 
 Unornamented stands this house of clay 
 
 Illumine with Thy love its inner shrine 
 
 That all who pass may see its flame afar 
 
 And Heavenward guide their footsteps by its glow.' 
 
 As prayed the nun, grew bright with sunset's fires 
 
 The windows of the grey cathedral near; 
 
 The haunting cadence of the litany 
 
 Stole softly out upon the golden calm; 
 
 Kyrie Eleison, Thy mercy Lord 
 
 Christe Eleison, prayer of human need! 
 
 The low sweet voices of the chanting nuns 
 
 Commingling with the organ's tender tones. 
 
 An instant pausing by the open door 
 
 Her heart athrill with Heaven's harmony, 
 
 She passed within, and having then fulfilled 
 
 The ritual of her vow's requirements, 
 
 Resumed her pilgrimage. 
 
 Each shrine in turn 
 Received the homage of the penitent; 
 Who bowed in grief o'er snowy replica 
 Of martyred saint all splashed with scarlet stain, 
 Dyed deeper by the redly westering sun. 
 As kneeling thus, crept through her consciousness 
 The knowledge of some passing miracle, 
 And looking upward to discern its source 
 A soft effulgence as of glory come 
 From Heaven was shining all around her. 
 
 There 
 Above St. Francis' Shrine a vision grew, 
 Full in the flame of sunset's crimson glow ; 
 
All tender rose and pearl and satin limbed, 
 All softly curved and radiant as a star, 
 Her draperies floating from her as a veil 
 Of parting cloud reveals the planet's light; 
 Upon her hair of gold was set a crown 
 Wherein unnumbered jewels softly gleamed; 
 Within her hand a single lily bloomed 
 Upon its slender stem. Around her shone 
 Heaven's light resplendent. 
 
 The meek nun gazed 
 In reverent awe, nor loved the vision less 
 That she of face was plain, with figure formed 
 Like some young boy that almost reached the gate 
 Of sturdy manhood. Yet somewhat redeemed 
 The plainness of her features, lustrous eyes 
 That lighted up and shone like misty stars 
 When she communed with God and He seemed near. 
 The vision faded leaving as it passed, 
 The exaltation of some lovely dream. 
 And bowing low beside the altar place 
 The nun sought answer at the Virgin's feet: 
 *'0 holy Mother ! Whence this miracle 
 Appearing in exquisite comeliness, 
 Enhaloed in the glory of the saints, 
 And purity upholding in her hand ?'* 
 
 Thus as the gentle suppliant made her plea, 
 
 There wafted down upon the holy calm 
 
 A voice of melting sweetness, like far strains 
 
 Of Heavenly music that one sometimes hears 
 
 When half awakened in the silent night. 
 
 It seemed the blessed Virgin answer gave. 
 
 The heart of her who listened thrilled with awe. 
 
 And scarce could grasp the meaning of the words. 
 
For that thou hast been faithful God hath sent 
 T^ T°" f t "'"''°' '° *y faith ; * 
 
 Thou here hath seen earth's body cast aside 
 ^ymbolic of the old life put away 
 And ,n Its place resplendent there has been 
 Reflected over sweet St. Francis' shrine 
 As in God s very mirror face to face 
 The glowing image of thy New Born Soul' 
 
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