Show POEMS WORTH READING S S THE ON S Post Wheeler jn New York Press The monk went down the winding stair And lit the candles one by one The heavy incense in the air Made each a nimbus d sun The corpse lay lighted on Its bier Its cheek was white its eyes were dim But suddenly they opened clear And wavered up at him Brother it said and well he knew That it was dead that spake so wise Since yestereen I have had view Of heaven with these eyes The Radiance looked upon my face And pn the holy dress I wore There was for me no heavenly placeS place-S For that my heart was sore o So thrust your hand within my breast And take away < my mortal sin That when I go once more tQ rest I may enter in S The monk drew wide the dead mans dress SAnd S-And 10 a pictured face he bore It lay < jo light so light nathless It nude the dead heart sore S Quick he unclasped the painted thing As one of his own soul afraid And hurledit from him shuddering And shudderingly prayed The dead man sweated as he layS lay-S Anda sharp trembling shook each limb But when the fit had passed away The eyes smiled and were dim The monk awoke the bell that day Tolled for the dead man oer and oer And knew the while he tried to pray His own dead heart was sore |