Parsifal [Poem]Author(s): Agnes LeeSource: The Knight Errant, Vol. 1, No. 1 (Apr., 1892), p. 16Published by:Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25515868 .

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PARSIFAL.

A century's mocking malisons make cold The night where restless wraiths are moving by

Dancing their death dance 'neath a starless sky; Where Greed and Lust in whirling maze enfold Their golden idols; Pleasure beckons bold

And laughs a loud laugh ending in a sigh, While Art, oppressed and torn, nas ceased to cry,

Half buried 'neath the burden of their gold.

But hark! a song is speeding through the night, Of holy balm that heals a wasting wound.

A heavenly cadenced chord reverberates And Man redeemed and pure stands visioned bright. Oh Mastersong! Art hears, that bleeding swooned,

And Eastward turns her wistful eyes ? and waits.

Agnes Lee.

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