All the heavy days are over;
Leave the body's coloured pride
Underneath the grass and clover
With the feet laid side by side

One with her are mirth and duty;
Bear the gold-embroidered dress
For she needs not her sad beauty
To the scented oaken press

Hers the kiss of Mother Mary
The long hair is on her face;
Still she goes with footsteps wary
Full of earth's old timid grace

With white feet of angels seven
Her white feet go glimmering;
And above the deep of heaven
Flame on flame, and wing on wing