by John Banister Tabb
"I bring thee balm, and, lo, Thou art not here!
Twice have I poured mine ointment on Thy brow,
And washed Thy feet with tears. Disdain'st Thou now
The spikenard and the myrrh?"
Has Death, alas, betrayed Thee with a kiss
That seals Thee from the memory of mine?
Mary! It is the self-same Voice Divine.
"Rabboni!" -- only this.
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston