• The lilies stand before her like a screen
• Through which, upon this warm & solemn day,
• God surely hears. For there she kneels to pray
• Who bore our Bourne of prayer,—Mary the Queen.
• She was Faith's Present, parting what had been
• From what began with her and is for aye:
• On either side God's twofold system lay,—
• With meek bowed face a virgin prayed between.

• So prays she, and the Dove flies in to her,
• 10 And she has turned. Within the porch is one
• Who looks as though deep awe made him to smile.
• Heavy with heat, the plants yield shadow there,
• The loud flies cross each other in the sun,
• And the aisle-pillars meet the poplar-aisle.

   

• Upon a sun-scorched road when noon was deep
• I passed a little consecrated shrine
• Where among simple pictures ranged in line
• The blessed Mary holds her son asleep.
• To kneel here, shepherd-children leave their sheep
• When silence broods at heart of the sunshine,
• And again kneel here in the day's decline,
• And here, when their life ails them, come to weep.

• Night being full, I passed on the same road
• 10By the same shrine. Within, a lamp was lit
• Which through the depth of utter darkness glow'd.
• Then, after heat of life, when doubts arise
• Dim-hurtling, faith's pure lamp must beam on it,—
• How oft unlit, alas! how oft that dies!