Chapter 40
Two Evenings by Lillian Whiting Read for LibriVox.org by Esther Camus By the couch with snowy hangings held by sculptured angels fair, Florence, whitely robed for slumber, knelt to say her evening prayer, knelt to ask the loving Saviour for his touch on lip and brow,
Blessed Jesus, make me holy, let me be an angel now. Shimmering folds of misty laces o'er the deep bay window hung, Fragrant perfumes floating through them On the night air faintly flung And the carpet's crimson roses
Strewn upon mossy ground Seemed to twine o'er marble statues Whitely gleaming all around Once again the shimmering moonbeams In that chamber dim and fair
Fall on hands all lily-laden Linger on the golden hair With a touch of peace prophetic Rest on cheek and lip and brow For the childish prayer was answered
Florence is an angel now.
