  I.The sunset's dying radiance falls On chancel-gloom and sculptured shrine, A splendor wraps the pictured walls, Where painted saints in glory shine! And blent with sweet-tongued vesper-bells, Through echoing aisles and arches dim The organ's solemn music swells, The sweetly chanted evening hymn. II.Low at Our Lady's spotless feet A white-robed woman kneels in prayer: The Deus Meus murmurs sweet, While Glorias throb on perfumed air; Before the circling altar-rail She breathes her Aves soft and low— The golden hair beneath her veil Wreathed like a glory on her brow. III.The sunset's purple splendors fade, The dark'ning shades of twilight fall, The moonbeam's silver touch is laid On sculptur'd saint and pictur'd wall; And while the weeping watcher kneels, And silence weaves her magic spells, The gray dawn thro' the oriel steals, And morning wakes the matin-bells. Advent, 1872. |
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