Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368507" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Benedetta Minelli</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE NOVICE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT is near morning. Ere the next night fall <br>I shall be made the bride of heaven. Then home <br>To my still marriage chamber I shall come, <br>And spouseless, childless, watch the slow years crawl. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">These lips will never meet a softer touch <br>Than the stone crucifix I kiss; no child <br>Will clasp this neck. Ah, virgin-mother mild, <br>Thy painted bliss will mock me overmuch. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the last time I shall twist the hair <br>My mother's hand wreathed, till in dust she lay: <br>The name, her name, given on my baptism-day, <br>This is the last time I shall ever bear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O weary world, O heavy life, farewell! <br>Like a tired child that creeps into the dark <br>To sob itself asleep, where none will mark,-- <br>So creep I to my silent convent cell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friends, lovers whom I loved not, kindly hearts <br>Who grieve that I should enter this still door, <br>Grieve not. Closing behind me evermore, <br>Me from all anguish, as all joy, it parts. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love, whom alone I loved; who stand'st far off, <br>Lifting compassionate eyes that could not save, <br>Remember, this my spirit's quiet grave <br>Hides me from worldly pity, worldly scoff. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'T was less thy hand than Heaven's which came between, <br>And dashed my cup down. See, I shed no tears: <br>And if I think at all of vanished years, <br>'T is but to bless thee, dear, for what has been. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My soul continually does cry to thee; <br>In the night-watches ghost-like stealing out <br>From its flesh tomb, and hovering thee about; <br>So live that I in heaven thy face may see! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Live, noble heart, of whom this heart of mine <br>Was half unworthy. Build up actions great, <br>That I down looking from the crystal gate <br>Smile o'er our dead hopes urned in such a shrine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Live, keeping aye they spirit undefiled, <br>That, when we stand before our Master's feet, <br>I with an angel's love may crown complete <br>The woman's faith, the worship of the child. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn, solemn bridal morn; ope, bridal door; <br>I enter. My vowed soul may Heaven take; <br>My heart its virgin spousal for thy sake; <br>O love, keeps sacred thus forevermore. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE SISTER OF MERCY.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IS it then so?--Good friends, who sit and sigh <br>While I lie smiling, are my life's sands run? <br>Will my next matins, hymned beyond the sun, <br>Mingle with those of saints and martyrs high? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall I with these my gray hairs turned to gold, <br>My aged limbs new clad in garments white, <br>Stand all transfigured in the angels' sight, <br>Singing triumphantly that moan of old,-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy will be done? It was done. O my God, <br>Thou know'st, when over grief's tempestuous sea <br>My broken-wingèd soul fled home to Thee, <br>I writhed, but never murmured at Thy rod. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It fell upon me, stern at first, then soft <br>As parent's kisses, till the wound was healed; <br>And I went forth a laborer in Thy field:-- <br>They best can bind who have been bruisèd oft. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Thou wert pitiful. I came heart-sore, <br>And drank Thy cup because earth's cups ran dry: <br>Thou slew'st me not for that impiety, <br>But madest the draught so sweet, I thirst no more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I came for silence, heavy rest, or death: <br>Thou gavest instead life, peace, and holy toil: <br>My sighing lips from sorrow didst assoil, <br>And fill with righteous thankfulness each breath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore I praise Thee that Thou shuttest Thine ears <br>Unto my misery: didst Thy will, not mine: <br>That to this length of days Thy hand divine, <br>My feet from falling kept, mine eyes from tears. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sisters, draw near. Hear my last words serene: <br>When I was young I walked in mine own ways, <br>Worshipped--not God: sought not alone His praise; <br>So he cut down my gourd while it was green. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then He o'er me threw His holy shade, <br>That though no other mortal plants might grow, <br>Mocking the beauty that was long laid low, <br>I dwelt in peace, and His commands obeyed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I thank Him for all joy and for all pain: <br>For healèd pangs, for years of calm content: <br>For blessedness of spending and being spent <br>In His high service where all loss is gain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I bless Him for my life and for my death; <br>But most, that in my death my life is crowned, <br>Since I see there, with angels gathering round, <br>My angel. Ay, love, thou hast kept thy faith, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I mine. The golden portals will not close <br>Like those of earth, between us. Reach thy hand! <br>No miserere, sisters. Chant out grand <br>Te Deum laudamus. Now,--'t is all repose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dinah+Maria+Mulock+Craik">Dinah Maria Mulock Craik</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368507" data-title="Benedetta Minelli de Dinah Maria Mulock Craik" data-description="I.

THE NOVICE.

IT is near morning. Ere the next night fall 
I shall be made the bride of heaven. Then home 
To my still marriage chamber I shall come, 
And spouseless, childless, watch the slow years crawl. 

These lips will never meet a softer ..."></div>
</div>
</div>