Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1882-09-03
FRA 6IACOMO.
eoBERT BUCHANAN.

RoBERT BUCHANAN.
Alas Fra Giacomo,
Too latel but follow me
Hushl draw the curtaln-sol
She is dead, quite deao, you see.
Poor little lady. She lies,
All the light gone out OF her eyes:
But her features still wear tnat SOFT,
Gray, meditatiye expression,
Which you must have notlcso OF,
Thro' the peephole o. ennfezsi2n-
Thorlgh fhfs rs the chamber of death,
fancy feel her breatn,
As kiss her on the cneek-
Too holy for ma by faIl--r
As cold and as pure IS star,
Not fashioned for kissing and pressing,
But made for a heavenly croWnt
Az, Father, let us go DOWN.
But first, If you please, your blessing.
Wine? Mel Come, come, you musti
Blessing it with your prayers,
You'll quah a cup trust,
To the health of the Saint, upstairs.
Ny heart is aching SO,
And feel SO weary and sac,
Through the blow that have had
You'll cit, Fra GiacomoF
TT
Heighoi It's now six summers
Since saw that angel and married her
was passing rich and carried her
Of in the face of all corners.
So fresh yet so brimming with Soul!
A sweeter morsel, swear,
Never made the dull black coal
OF monks eye glitter and glare
Your pardon-nsy. keep your chair
A iesti but jest. Very true,
Il is hardly becoming to jest.
And that Saint up stairs at rest
Her soul may be listening tOOt
To think how 1 doubted and doubted,
Suspected, grumbled at, houted
That golden-hair'd Angel and solely
Because she was jealous and holy,
Night and noon, and morn
She devoted herself 70 plety-
Not that she seemed TO scorn
Or shun her husbands society;
But the claims of her Soul superseded
All that asked for or needed,
And her thoughts were far away
From the level of lustful clay,
And size trembled lest earthly matters
1nterfered with her dtes and pdttrS!
Sweet dove, She SO futtered, in flying
To avoid the black yapors OF Hell.
So bent on self-sanctifying-
That she never thoughtof trying
To save her poor husband as we'll
AID while she was named ana elected
For place on the heavenly roll,
(beast that was) suspected
Her manner of saving her soul
So half for the fun of the thing.
What did (blasphemeri y but fling
On my shoulders the gown OF monk
kWhom managed for that very day
To get safely out OF the way
And seat me, half sober, half drunk,
With the cowl drawn over my face,
In the Father Confessors place
Ehug benedicikef
In her beautiful sweet simplicity.
She sighfufiy Rneit 1t confession-
While bit my lips till they bled,
And dug my nails in my palm,
And heard with averted hefsd
The horrible words come calm
Each word was serpents sting;
But. wrapt in my gloomy i,own,
sat Ike marble thing
AS she uttered your name. SIT DOWN.
".
More wine, Fra Giacomol
One cup-as you love mel No?
Come, drink twill bring the streaks
II crimson back to your cheeks.
Comet drink again 10 the SAINT.
Whose virtues you loved to reint,
VINO, stretched on her wifely bed,
With the soft, sweet, gray EXPRESSION
You saw and admired at Confession
Lies poisoned, overhead
".
,it still--or. by God, you die,
ace TO lace. soul to soul, you and
Have settled accounts in a fine
Pleasant fashion, over our wine
'tr not. and seek not to fly
Nay, whether or not, you are minef
Thank Monfepulciano for giving
Your death in such delicate Sips
lis not every monk ceases living
With so pleasant taste on his lips
tut lest Montepulciano unsurely should kiss
Take thisl And thisi And thisi
VI.
:: Raise him; and cast him, Pietro,
nto the deep canal below;
gu can be secret, lad, know.
nd bark you, then to the convent 60
Id every bell OF the convent toll,
soul.