POETRY

FESTIVAL IN TUSCANY

To D. T.

A Low stream slept by a winding track On a poplar-bordered plain, And here at dusk our way was barred At a forking in the lane.

Smoking and jostling peasants lounged

Across the road, and boys.

Were larking,—yet grew silent when They heard a silver noise, And down the lane a bell-man came Ringing a warning bell ; Then pipes were out, and heads were bared, And a grave silence fell.

For here came little maids in white With veils upon their head, Small Daughters of the Sacred Heart Girded about in red.

So newly born and pure and meek, Singing a psalm or prayer : I suddenly saw the first of stars Dawn in the sallow air.

Then maidens grown and soon to wed, Tall maidens, two by two ; Daughters of Mary, clad in white, Girded about in blue.

Black-goWned the wives and mothers walked, Stark-Wed and harrow-lined ; Under a darkly-kerchiefed brOW Their eyes were wise and kind.

Behind them sons and fathers came With heavy step they trod, Earth-stained and dumb with candles lit.;

And after them came God,— Christ on the Cross !--thorns on His. brow The spear-wound in His side ; He poured His life into their lives- When He was crucified.

A faint moon shone, a poplar shook Against an ashen sky, - - The vines leaned out and wrung their hands, When the dead Lord went by.

Lamps on long poles lit up a brow Blood-stained, yet aureoled . . . . After that dark and tortured Form,- White-vested, golden-stoled, The priest came bearing the sacred Host Wherein Christ lives again :

-We were but heathen, yet we kneeled While God went down the lane.

W. Foam Bream.