Part 36 (1/2)

Oh, beautiful at nightfall The soft spitting snow!

And beautiful the bare boughs Rubbing to and fro!

But the roaring of the fire, And the warmth of fur, And the boiling of the kettle Were beautiful to her!

I cannot but remember When the year grows old -- October -- November -- How she disliked the cold!

In the Monastery. [Norreys Jephson O'Conor]

Cold is the wind to-night, and rough the sea, Too rough for even the daring Dane to find A landing-place upon the frozen lea.

Cold is the wind.

The blast sweeps round the chapel from behind, Making the altar-light flare fitfully, While I must kneel and pray with troubled mind.

Patrick and Brigid, I have prayed to ye!

The night is over, and my task resigned To Colum. Though G.o.d's own dwelling shelter me, Cold is the wind.

The Narrow Doors. [Fannie Stearns Davis]

The Wide Door into Sorrow Stands open night and day.

With head held high and dancing feet I pa.s.s it on my way.

I never tread within it, I never turn to see The Wide Door into Sorrow.

It cannot frighten me.

The Narrow Doors to Sorrow Are secret, still, and low: Swift tongues of dusk that spoil the sun Before I even know.

My dancing feet are frozen.

I stare. I can but see.

The Narrow Doors to Sorrow They stop the heart in me.

-- Oh, stranger than my midnights Of loneliness and strife The Doors that let the dark leap in Across my sunny life!

”I Pa.s.s a Lighted Window”. [Clement Wood]