O Women, Kneeling By Your Altar-Rails Long Hence, When Songs I Wove For My Beloved Hide The Prayer, And Smoke From This Dead Heart Drifts Through The Violet Air And Covers Away The Smoke Of Myrrh And Frankincense; Bend Down And Pray For All That Sin I Wove In Song, Till The Attorney For Lost Souls Cry Her Sweet Cry, And.Call To My Beloved And Me: "No Longer Fly Amid The Hovering, Piteous, Penitential Throng.