produce.




FRA ALOYSIUS

Fra Aloysius, vexed with skeptic fears,
Nigh crazed with thought to all the saints did pray
For faith in those mysterious words that say,
"One day is with the Lord a thousand years,
A thousand years with Him are as a day."

An erudite and holy monk was he,
And yet his brethren trembled lest his brain
Should lose its poise, so long he dwelt in vain
On that perplexing verse to find its key,
And strove to make its hidden meaning plain.

Racked by a sleepless night, one fresh spring morn
Forth from the cloister Aloysius strolled.
The wood was dewy-bright, clear beams of gold
Illumined it, and to his heart was borne
A sense of freedom, peace and joy untold.

Beside a laughing brook he sat to rest,
Above whose wave did long-haired willows weep;
Midmost the dense green forest, still and deep,
Lulled by the trickling waters and possessed
By tranquil thoughts, the friar fell asleep.