She walks the azure meadows where the stars <br />Shed glowing petals on her moon-white feet, <br />The planets sing to see her, and to greet <br />Her, nebulae unfold like nenuphars. <br />No dread eclipse the morn of Heaven mars <br />But fades before her fearing, lest she meet <br />With darkness, while the reckless comets beat <br />A path of gold with flickering scimitars. <br /> <br />The battle-ranks of Heaven are marching past <br />Squadron by squadron, battalion, and brigade, <br />Both horse and foot—Soundless their swift parade, <br />Silent till she appears—then quick they cast <br />Upon the wind the banner of the Maid, <br />And Heaven rocks with Gabriel’s trumpet-blast.<br /><br />Joseph Mary Plunkett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/la-pucelle/
