Far, far from us you do seem to fly
No more can we share a loving meal
Your vision is now banished from the eye
That kind, soft touch of yours we cannot feel
Are we always to be so sore bereft?
Abandoned here below weeping alone .
Unconsoled. ever in grief to be left
To be dark, in that place where light has shone
But it is not really so, my love
Gone in seeming you only seem to go .
On great ardour's wings you soar high sweet dove
Then plunging in my heart your torrents flow.
We assumed you had left us mother divine
But, ah dear Mary, forever you are mine.
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Thank you, would like to read this at a moonlight hike with friends on the assumption. Who shall I credit with this work? :)
ReplyDeleteSorry, a bit late to this. If you do it again next year you can credit it to 'the blogger Catholic Scot.' Or, my irl name is Steven Hepburn.
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