The Watchers

She fell asleep among the flowers
In the sober autumn hours.

Three there are about her bed,
At her side and feet and head.

At her head standeth the Cross
For which all else she counted loss:

Still and steadfast at her feet
Doth her Guardian Angel sit:

Prayers of truest love abide
Wrapping her on every side.

The holy Cross standeth alone,
Beneath the white moon, whitest stone.

Evil spirits come not near
Its shadow, shielding from all fear:

Once she bore it in her breast,
Now it certifies her rest.

Humble violets grow around
Its base, sweetening the grassy ground,

Leaf-hidden: so she hid from praise
Of men her pious holy ways.

Higher about it, twining close,
Clingeth a crimson thorny rose:

So from her heart’s good seed of love
Thorns sprang below, flowers spring above.

Though yet his vigil doth not cease,
Her Angel sits in perfect peace,

With white folded wings: for she
He watches now is pure as he.

He watches with his loving eyes
For the day when she shall rise:

When full of glory and of grace
She shall behold him face to face.

Though she is safe for ever, yet
Human love doth not forget:

But prays that in her deep
Grave she may sleep a blessed sleep,

Till when time and the world are past
She may find mercy at the last.

So these three do hedge her in
From sorrow, as death does from sin.

So freed from earthly taint and pain
May they all meet in heaven. Amen.