Elsie. ’T is the cessation of our breath. 
Silent and motionless we lie;
And no one knoweth more than this. 
I saw our little Gertrude die,
She left off breathing, and no more
I smoothed the pillow beneath her head. 
She was more beautiful than before. 
Like violets faded were her eyes;
By this we knew that she was dead. 
Through the open window looked the skies
Into the chamber where she lay,
And the wind was like the sound of wings,
As if angels came to bear her away. 
Ah! when I saw and felt these things,
I found it difficult to stay;
I longed to die, as she had died,
And go forth with her, side by side. 
The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead,
And Mary, and our Lord, and I
Would follow in humility
The way by them illumined!

  Ursula. My child! my child! thou must not die!

Elsie Why should I live?  Do I not know
The life of woman is full of woe? 
Toiling on and on and on,
With breaking heart, and tearful eyes,
And silent lips, and in the soul
The secret longings that arise,
Which this world never satisfies! 
Some more, some less, but of the whole
Not one quite happy, no, not one!

  Ursula. It is the malediction of Eve!

Elsie. In place of it, let me receive The benediction of Mary, then.

Gottlieb. Ah, woe is me!  Ah, woe is me!  Most wretched am I among men!

Ursula. Alas! that I should live to see Thy death, beloved, and to stand Above thy grave!  Ah, woe the day!

Elsie. Thou wilt not see it.  I shall lie
Beneath the flowers of another land,
For at Salerno, far away
Over the mountains, over the sea,
It is appointed me to die! 
And it will seem no more to thee
Than if at the village on market-day
I should a little longer stay
Than I am used.

Ursula. Even as thou sayest! 
And how my heart beats, when thou stayest! 
I cannot rest until my sight
Is satisfied with seeing thee. 
What, then, if thou wert dead?

Gottlieb Ah me! 
Of our old eyes thou art the light! 
The joy of our old hearts art thou! 
And wilt thou die?

  Ursula. Not now! not now!

Elsie Christ died for me, and shall not I
Be willing for my Prince to die? 
You both are silent; you cannot speak. 
This said I, at our Saviour’s feast,
After confession, to the priest,
And even he made no reply. 
Does he not warn us all to seek
The happier, better land on high,
Where flowers immortal never wither,
And could he forbid me to go thither?

Gottlieb. In God’s own time, my heart’s delight!  When he shall call thee, not before!

Elsie. I heard him call.  When Christ ascended
Triumphantly, from star to star,
He left the gates of heaven ajar. 
I had a vision in the night,
And saw him standing at the door
Of his Father’s mansion, vast and splendid,
And beckoning to me from afar. 
I cannot stay!