SANTA FILOMENA. Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, The tidal wave of deeper souls And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares. Honor to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Thus thought I, as by night I read The trenches cold and damp, The wounded from the battle-plain, The cheerless corridors, Lo! in that house of misery Pass through the glimmering gloom, And slow, as in a dream of bliss, Her shadow, as it falls As if a door in heaven should be Opened and then closed suddenly, The vision came and went, On England's annals, through the long That light its rays shall cast A Lady with a Lamp shall stand A noble type of good, |