MATER DOLOROSA
Reading edition
By John Fitzpatrick, O.M.I.
She stands, within the shadow, at the foot Of the high tree she planted: thirty-three Full years have sped, and such has grown to be The stem that burgeoned forth from Jesse’s root. Spring swiftly passed and panted in pursuit The eager summer; now she stands to see The only fruit-time of her only tree: And all the world is waiting for the Fruit. Now is faith’s sad fruition: this one hour Of gathered expectation wears the crown Of the long grief with which the years were rife; As in her lap—a sudden autumn shower— The earthquake with his trembling hand shakes down The red, ripe Fruitage of the Tree of Life.