An Irish Easter Legend

"Whoso kneels down upon Easter morn
On the Druids stone, and prays,
Shall see Christ's face zvhen the day is born
In the sun s first rising rays."
The Brother Clement, a holy man,
Has watched through the night, that he
May know if the eyes of mortal can
The face of the true Lord see.
His hands are folded across his breast,
And his knees are on the stone.
The chill breeze cometh from out the west
As the monk prays there alone.
It chills him not, for it bears a strain
As of liquid harp notes sweet,
And flute notes trilled to a glad refrain
That all living things repeat.
The air vibrates with the songs of birth,
A lark is up on the wing.
There stirs beneath him within the earth
The very soul of Spring.
Glad voices come from the rustling trees.
The primrose and the daffodil,
All buds and flowers that catch the breeze,
With the song of the Springtime thrill.
"The Lord has blessed me," the Brother cries,
"Where the Druids knelt His grace
Has blessed mine ears, and will bless mine eyes
With a glimpse of His bright face."
The dawn is paling the eastern sky,
And the clouds are edged with gold.
He feels that the mystic time is nigh,
When before him a mist is rolled.
It rises ghostly from wood and stream,
Faint-flecked as with gold or fire,
And shaped into forms of eld that seem
The wraiths of the Druid choir.
And clear on his ear their hymn notes ring
"Lord, Lord of earth and air,
The Spring of the soul, the heart's glad Spring,
Wake Thou to our Easter pray'r.
"When flower and leaf have the gray earth blessed,
And the young grain grows apace,
And when the Spring stirs sweet in the breast,
We shall know we have seen Thy face."
The mists close round him in wreathings curled.
He knows that the sun s bright rim
Is lifting above the wakening world,
But is rising unseen of him.
Then he bows his head till from wood and mead
The mists, rose-winged, have flown.
"To see Christ s face in His world, did I need
To kneel on the Druids stone?
"O Druids of old, by the mists long won,
Ye pierced the riddle of gloom!
Fair risen Lord and glad risen sun,
Life, light, silver song and bloom!"
* * * *
The monk passed silent but smiling down,
And knelt in the holy place,
The humble folk through the minster town
Said "Lo, he has seen Christ's face!"