Over the dim confessional cried
Father Amatus,-cloistered young,-
Dropping his rosary by his side,
Careless where his crucifix swung:
“I have been priest since-an endless when!
Sat by the living, consoled the dead,
Fasted and prayed for women and men,
Fed the poor with my daily bread.
“The wind blows cold,-how the snow-flakes creep!
I will sin one sin, ere past recall,
Lest life should faint in this pallid sleep:
Kiss me, Jessica! Once for all.”
(Martha Gilbert Dickinson Bianchi)
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