THE MAGDALEN

He flaunted recklessly along,

With hollow laugh and mocking song;

In tawdry garb and painted mirth,

The sorrowfulest thing on earth.

Time runs apace: the fleeting years

Left but her misery and her tears.

The very brothel-door was barred

Against a wretch so crook'd and marred.

She knocked at every gate in vain,

The cast-out harlot black with stain —

At all save one,— when this she tried,—

‘ T was His, the High Priest crucified.

He heard her tears, flung wide His door

And said, “Come in, and sin no more.”