Easter Chronicle

Today is Easter; I am at Solesmes.
The air is still and delicate and sweet.
Violets cloud the path before my feet
And edge the village with their purple hem.
Alone, bemused with song, I gather them,
Thinking how, on this morning, I should meet
Blossoming sound, antiphonal, complete,
Blossoming color, leaf and flower and stem.

It has unfolded for me like a flower,
This great Gregorian chant: the solemn Mass,
The morning Office, hour by heavenly hour.
There shall remain when lesser praise shall pass
This music that is peace and prayer and power,
These April violets in the quickened grass.
-Sister Madeleva