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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Laus Deo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IN the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands.<br>At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands.<br>The bed of state is hung with crape--the grand old bed where she was<br>wed--<br>And like an upright corpse she sitteth gazing dumbly at the bed.<br>Hour by hour her serving-men enter by the curtain'd door,<br>And with steps of muffled woe pass breathless o'er the silent floor,<br>And marshal mutely round, and look from each to each with eyelids red;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Touch him not,' she shriek'd and cried, 'he is but newly dead!'<br>'O my own dear mistress,' the ancient Nurse did say,<br>'Seven long days and seven long nights you have watch'd him where he<br>lay.'<br>'Seven long days and seven long nights,' the hoary Steward said;<br>'Seven long days and seven long nights,' groan'd the Warrener gray;<br>'Seven,' said the old Henchman, and bow'd his aged head;<br>'On your lives!' she shriek'd and cried, 'he is but newly dead!'<br> Then a father Priest they sought,<br> The Priest that taught her all she knew,<br> And they told him of her loss.<br> 'For she is mild and sweet of will,<br> She loved him, and his words are peace,<br> And he shall heal her ill.'<br> But her watch she did not cease.<br> He bless'd her where she sat distraught,<br> And show'd her holy cross,--<br> The cross she kiss'd from year to year--<br> But she neither saw nor heard;<br> And said he in her deaf ear<br> All he had been wont to teach,<br> All she had been fond to hear,<br> Missall'd prayer, and solemn speech,<br> But she answer'd not a word.<br>Only when he turn'd to speak with those who wept about the bed,<br>'On your lives!' she shriek'd and cried, 'he is but newly dead!'<br>Then how sadly he turn'd from her, it were wonderful to tell,<br>And he stood beside the death-bed as by one who slumbers well,<br>And he lean'd o'er him who lay there, and in cautious whisper low,<br>'He is not dead, but sleepeth,' said the Priest, and smooth'd his<br>brow.<br>'Sleepeth?' said she, looking up, and the sun rose in her face!<br>'He must be better than I thought, for the sleep is very sound.'<br>'He is better,' said the Priest, and call'd her maidens round.<br>With them came that ancient dame who nursed her when a child;<br>O Nurse!' she sigh'd, 'O Nurse!' she cried 'O Nurse!' and then she<br>smiled,<br> And then she wept; with that they drew<br> About her, as of old;<br> Her dying eyes were sweet and blue,<br> Her trembling touch was cold;<br> But she said, 'My maidens true,<br> No more weeping and well-away;<br> Let them kill the feast.<br> I would be happy in my soul.<br> &quot;He is better,&quot; saith the Priest;<br> He did but sleep the weary day,<br> And will waken whole.<br> Carry me to his dear side,<br> And let the halls be trim;<br> Whistly, whistly,' said she,<br> 'I am wan with watching and wail,<br> He must not wake to see me pale,<br> Let me sleep with him.<br> See you keep the tryst for me,<br> I would rest till he awake<br> And rise up like a bride.<br> But whistly, whistly!' said she.<br> 'Yet rejoice your Lord doth live;<br> And for His dear sake<br> Say Laus, Domine.'<br> Silent they cast down their eyes,<br> And every breast a sob did rive,<br> She lifted her in wild surprise<br> And they dared not disobey.<br>'Laus Deo,' said the Steward, hoary when her days were new;<br>'Laus Deo,' said the Warrener, whiter than the warren snows;<br>'Laus Deo,' the bald Henchman, who had nursed her on his knee.<br> The old Nurse moved her lips in vain,<br> And she stood among the train<br> Like a dead tree shaking dew.<br> Then the Priest he softly stept<br> Midway in the little band,<br> And he took the Lady's hand.<br> 'Laus Deo,' he said aloud,<br> 'Laus Deo,' they said again,<br> Yet again, and yet again,<br> Humbly cross'd and lowly bow'd,<br> Till in wont and fear it rose<br> To the Sabbath strain.<br> But she neither turn'd her head<br> Nor 'Whistly, whistly,' said she.<br> Her hands were folded as in grace,<br> We laid her with her ancient race<br> And all the village wept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</a><div class=q>
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<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=523167" data-title="Laus Deo de Sydney Thompson Dobell" data-description="IN the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands.
At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands.
The bed of state is hung with crape--the grand old bed where she was
wed--
And like an upright corpse she sitteth gazing dumbly ..."></div>
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