Of old, St. Augustine wrote wise
And curious lore, within his book.
I read and meditate, my eyes
See words of comforting, I look
Again, and thrill with radiant hope.
" They did not sin, those white-souled nuns of old,
Pent up in leaguered city, and despoiled
By knights, who battered at the peaceful fold,
And stole their bodies. Yet the fiends were foiled,
They could not harm their stainless, cloistered souls. "
O wise St. Augustine, you give
Great joy to those whose earthly form
Is held in thrall. The soul may live
Unscathed — untouched — far from alarm,
True to its cloistered dream — unspoiled.