And in the stilly spaces of the night, While heaven wonders with its wakeful stars, Thou prayest still, beneath the solemn light, In booming tones that reach to heaven’s bars, Keeping thy vigils, while the angelic moon Walks on thy perilous verge with glorious shoon, Chanting from foam and spray without encease Thy yearning immemorial prayer for peace! COMMUNION BY CAROLINE GILTINAN Mother Mary, thee I see Bringing Him, thy Babe, to me, Thou dost say, with trusting smile: “Hold Him, dear, a little while.” Mother Mary, pity me, For He struggles to be free! My heart, my arms--He finds defiled: I am unworthy of thy Child. Mary, Mother, charity! Bring thy Baby back to me! THE NIGHTINGALE BY GERALD GRIFFIN As the mute nightingale in closest groves Lies hid at noon, but when day’s piercing eye Is locked in night, with full heart beating high Poureth her plain-song o’er the light she loves; So, Virgin Ever-pure and Ever-blest, Moon of religion, from whose radiant face Reflected streams the light of heavenly grace On broken hearts, by contrite thoughts oppressed: So, Mary, they who justly feel the weight Of Heaven’s offended Majesty, implore Thy reconciling aid with suppliant knee: Of sinful man, O sinless Advocate, To thee they turn, nor Him they less adore; ’Tis still His light they love, less dreadful seen in thee. TRYSTE NOEL BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY The Ox he openeth wide the doore, And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her smile therefore, Our Ladye without Sinne. Now soone from Sleep A Starre shall leap, And sonne arrive both King and Hinde: _Amen, Amen_: But O the place co’d I but finde! The Ox hath hushed his voyce and bent Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow, And on his lovelie Neck, forspent, The Blessed layes her Browe. Around her feet, Full Warme and Sweete, His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell: _Amen, Amen_: But sore am I with Vaine Travel! The Ox is Host in Judah stall And Host of more than onlie one, For close she gathereth withal Our Lorde her littel Sonne. Glad Hinde and King Their Gyfte may bring, But wo’d to-night my Teares were there, _Amen, Amen_: Between her Bosom and His hayre! THE WILD RIDE BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY _I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses, All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing._ Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle, Weatherworn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion, With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.