St. Mary's

Back to where the roses rest     Round a shrine of holy name,     (Yes -- they knew me when I came)     More of peace and less of fame      Suit my restless heart the best.      Back to where long quiets brood,     Where the calm is never stirred     By the harshness of a word,     But instead the singing bird      Sweetens all my solitude.      With the birds and with the flowers     Songs and silences unite,     From the morning unto night;     And somehow a clearer light      Shines along the quiet hours.      God comes closer to me here --     Back of ev'ry rose leaf there     He is hiding -- and the air     Thrills with calls to holy prayer;      Earth grows far, and heaven near.      Every single flower is fraught     With the very sweetest dreams,     Under clouds or under gleams     Changeful ever -- yet meseems      On each leaf I read God's thought.      Still, at times, as place of death,     Not a sound to vex the ear,     Yet withal it is not drear;     Better for the heart to hear,      Far from men -- God's gentle breath.      Where men clash, God always clings:     When the human passes by,     Like a cloud from summer sky,     God so gently draweth nigh,      And the brightest blessings brings.      List! e'en now a wild bird sings,     And the roses seem to hear     Every note that thrills my ear,     Rising to the heavens clear,      And my soul soars on its wings      Up into the silent skies     Where the sunbeams veil the star,     Up -- beyond the clouds afar,     Where no discords ever mar,      Where rests peace that never dies.      So I live within the calm,     And the birds and roses know     That the days that come and go     Are as peaceful as the flow      Of a prayer beneath a psalm.