Volume 8 — Penitence.
Reading edition
A Sonnet. A sorrow that for shame had hid her face, Soared to Heaven's gate, and knelt in penance there Beneath the dusk cloud of her own wet hair, Weeping, as who would fain some deed erase That blots in dread eclipse baptismal grace: Like a felled tree with all its branches fair She lay—her forehead on the ivory stair— Low murmuring, "Just art Thou, but I am base." Then saw I in my spirit's unsealed ken How Heaven's bright hosts thrilled like the gems of morn When May winds on the incense-bosomed thorn The diamonds change to ruby. Magdalen Arose, and kissed the Saviour's feet once more, And to that suffering soul his peace and pardon bore. Aubrey De Vere.