Long years ago,
when the Devil was loose
and faith was sorely tried,
Three monks of Basel went
out to walk in the quiet eventide.
A breeze as pure as the breath of
Heaven
Blew fresh through the cloister-shades,
a sky as glad as the smile of
Heaven
Blushed rose o'er the minster-glades.
But scorning the lures of summer and
sense,
the monks passed on in their walk;
Their eyes were abased,
their senses slept,
Their souls were in their talks.
O'h ...
A non ...
A wordless carol of life and love,
of nature free and wild;
And the tree monks paused in the
Evening Shade,
looked up at each other and smile...
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