Out of the place of death,
Out of the cypress shadow,
Out of sepulchral earth,
Dust that Calvary gave;
Sprang, as fragrant of breath
As any flower of the meadow,
This, with death in its birth,
Sent like speech from the grave.
So, in a world of doubt,
Love—like a flower—
Blossoms suddenly white,
Suddenly sweet and pure;
Shedding a breath about
Of new mysterious power;
Lifting a hope in the night,
Not to be told, but sure.
[Illustration]
_A Song._
Last night I met mine own true love
Walking in Paradise,
A halo shone above his hair,
A glory in his eyes.
We sat and sang in alleys green
And heard the angels play;
Believe me, this was true last night
Though it is false to-day.
[Illustration]
_Stornelli and Strambotti._
[Illustration]