In The Choir Poem by Isabella Fyvie Mayo

On rolled the mighty melody,
As though multitude passed by
A sea of sound and sweetness; here and there
A clear young voice pealed high:

A glory crept along the vaulted roof,
And tinged the old grey stone:
The sunshine stole it from the windows where
The saints each stood alone.

Below knelt youth and beauty in their pride,
Fair as the flowers of June.
How did that psalm of strife and agony
Chime with each young heart's tune!

And then the heavy oaken door swung back:
A woman entered in
Wan in the face, and weary in her mien,
Her garments soiled and thin;

And like a blot upon a robe, she stood
Amid the gorgeous fane;
And youth and beauty drew themselves apart,
And she went out again.

Still, where the pictured Twelve Apostles stood
The light came coloured fair;
But yet methought those men of Galilee
Had scarce been welcome there!