Sir Hugh the Palmer

He kneeled among a waste of sands

Before the Mother-Maid,

But on the far green forest-lands

His steadfast eyes were stayed,

And like a knight of stone his hands

He straightened while he prayed.

“Lady, beyond all women fair,

Beyond all saints benign,

Whose living heart through life I bear

In mystery divine,

Hear thou and grant me this my prayer,

Or grant no prayer of mine.

“The fever of my spirit's pain

Heal thou with heavenly scorn;

The dust that but of dust is fain

Leave thou in dust forlorn;

Yea! bury love to rise again

Meet for eternal morn.

“So by thy grace my inward eyes

Thy beauty still shall see,

And while our life in shadow lies

High dawn shall image thee,

Till with thy soul in Paradise

Thy servant's soul shall be.”

Before the immortal Mother-Maid

Low on the sands he kneeled;

But even while the words he prayed

His lips to patience sealed,

Joy in his eyes a radiance made

Like stars in dusk revealed.