Rose Window

The preacher took from Solomon’s Song

Four words for text with mystery rife—

The Rose of Sharon,—figuring Him

The Resurrection and the Life;

And, pointing many an urn in view,

How honied a homily he drew.

There in the slumberous afternoon,

Through minster gray, in lullaby rolled

The brimmed metheglin charged with swoon.

Drowsy, my decorous hands I fold

Till sleep overtakes with dream for boon.

I saw an Angel with a Rose

Come out of Morning’s garden-gate,

And lamp-like hold the Rose aloft,

He entered a sepulchral Strait.

I followed. And I saw the Rose

Shed dappled dawn upon the dead;

The shrouds and mort-cloths all were lit

To plaids and chequered tartans red.

I woke. The great Rose-Window high,

A mullioned wheel in gable set,

Suffused with rich and soft in dye

Where Iris and Aurora met;

Aslant in sheaf of rays it threw

From all its foliate round of panes

Transfiguring light on dingy stains,

While danced the motes in dusty pew.