Softly the sunbeams gleamed athwart the Temple proud and high— <br />Built up by Israel’s wisest to the Lord of earth and sky— <br />Lighting its gorgeous fretted roof, and every sacred fold <br />Of mystic veil—from gaze profane that hid the ark of old. <br /> <br />Ne’er could man’s gaze have rested on a scene more rich and bright: <br />Agate and porphyry—precious gems—cedar and ivory white, <br />Marbles of perfect sheen and hue, sculptures and tintings rare, <br />With sandal wood and frankincense perfuming all the air. <br /> <br />But see, how steals up yonder aisle, with rows of columns high, <br />A female form, with timid step and downcast modest eye;— <br />A girl she seems by the fresh bloom that decks her lovely face— <br />With locks of gold and vestal brow, and form of childish grace. <br /> <br />Yet, no! those soft, slight arms enfold a helpless new-born child, <br />Late entered on this world of woe—still pure and undefiled; <br />While two white doves she humbly lays before the altar there <br />Tell that, despite her girlish years, she knows a matron’s care. <br /> <br />No fairer sight could heart have asked than that which met the view, <br />E’en had He been the child of sin—and she a sinner, too; <br />But how must heavenly hosts have looked in breathless rapture on, <br />Knowing Him, as the Temple’s Lord—the Word—th’Eternal Son! <br /> <br />While she was that Maid Mother rare—fairest of Adam’s race, <br />Whom Heaven’s Archangel, bending low, had hailed as full of grace,— <br />The Mother of that infant God close clasped unto her breast— <br />the Mary humble, meek and pure, above all women blessed.<br /><br />Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-purification/
