I THINK some saint of Eirinn wandering far
Found you and brought you here Demoiselles!
For so I greet you in this alien air!
And like those maidens who were only known
In their own land as daughters of the King,
Children of Charlemagne
You have, by following that pilgrim-saint,
Become high vot’resses
You have made your palace beauty dedicate,
And your pomp serviceable:
You stand beside our folds!
I think you came from some old Roman land
Most alien, but most Catholic are you:
Your purple is the purple that enfolds,
In Passion Week, the Shrine,
Your scarlet is the scarlet of the wounds:
You bring before our walls, before our doors
Lamps of the Sanctuary;
And in this stony place
The time the robin sings,
Through your bells rings the Angelus!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.