Irish Jesuit Province

In PaceAuthor(s): M. WatsonSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 30, No. 353 (Nov., 1902), p. 660Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20500365 .

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[ 660 1

IN PACE

HusH ! tread thou mute and slow;

Here calm she sleeps.

Above her head laid low

The willow weeps.

She was so bright, we thought

She could not die. Now she to dust is brought:

We mourn, we sigh.

From dust so stainless pure

Let lilies spring:

Their cups, dew-crowned, will lure

Birds here to sing.

All day the sunbeams fall

And clothe this mound

With fitting golden pall

'Tis holy ground.

The stars' pale rays at night

The green grave kiss, But she with Seraphs bright

Now reigns in bliss.

For 'tis but flesh that turns

To kindred clay:

Her glorious soul lives, burns

With love for aye.

She waits in perfect peace

For us to come,

And find, like her, surcease

Of ills-at home. M. WATSON, S.J.

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