
In remembrance of Sr. Dolorosa, OCD
November 14, 1922 – February 4, 2011
“Love, thou art absolute sole lord
Of life and death. To prove the word
We’ll now appeal to none of all
Those thy old soldiers great and tall,
Ripe men of martyrdom that could reach down
With strong arms their triumphant crown;
Such as could with lusty breath
Speak loud into the face of death,
Their great Lord’s glorious name to none
Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne
For Love at large to fill spare blood and sweat;
And see him take a private seat,
Making his mansion in the mild
And milky soul of a soft child.
Scarce has she learn’t to lisp the name
Of martyr yet she thinks it shame
Life should so long play with that breath
Which spent can buy so brave a death.
She never undertook to know
What Death with Love should have to do:
Nor has she e’re yet understood
Why to show love she should shed blood,
Yet though she cannot tell you why,
She can love and she can die .
Scarce has she blood enough to make
A guilty sword blush for her sake;
Yet has she a heart dares hope to prove
How much less strong is death than love.
Be Love but there let poor six years
Be posed with the maturest fears
Man trembles at you straight shall find
Love knows no nonage nor the mind;
‘Tis love not years or limbs that can
Make the marytr or the man.
Love touched her heart and lo it beats
High and burns with such brave heats,
Such thirsts to die as dares drink up
A thousand cold deaths in one cup.
Good reason for she breathes all fire;
Her white breast heaves with strong desire
Of what she may with fruitless wishes
Seek for amongst her mother’s kisses.
Since tis not to be had at home
She’ll travail to a martyrdom
No home for her confesses she
But where she may a martyr be.
She’ll to the Moors and trade with them
For this unvalued diadem;
She’ll offer them her dearest breast,
With Christ’s name in it in change for death;
She’ll bargain with them and will give
Them God teach then how to live
In Him or if they this deny
For Him she’ll teach them how to die:
So shall she leave amongst them sown
Her Lord’s blood or at least her own.
Farewell then all the World! adieu!
Teresa is no more for you.
Farewell all pleasures sports and joys
(Never till now esteemed toys)
Farewell whatever dear maybe,
Mother’s arms or father’s knee:
Farewell house and farewell home!
She’s for the Moors and martyrdom.
Sweet not so fast! lo thy fair Spouse
Whom thou seekest with so swift vows
Calls thee back and bids thee come
To embrace a milder martyrdom
Blest powers forbade thy tender life
Should bleed upon a barbarous knife;
Or some base hand have power to raze
Thy breast’s chaste cabinet and uncase
A soul kept there so sweet O no,
Wise Heaven will never have it so.
Thou art Love’s victim and must die
A death more mystical and high
Into Love’s arms thou shalt let fall
A still surviving funeral.
His is the dart must make the death
Whose stroke shall taste thy hallow d breath;
A dart thrice dipped in that rich flame
Which writes thy Spouse’s radiant name
Upon the roof of Heaven where ay
It shines and with a sovereign ray
Beats bright upon the burning faces
Of souls which in that Name’s sweet graces
Find everlasting smiles so rare,
So spiritual pure and fair
Must be the immortal instrument
Upon whose choice point shall be sent
A life so loved and that there be
Fit executioners for thee,
The fair’st and first born sons of fire,
Blest seraphim shall leave their choir,
And turn Love’s soldiers upon thee
To exercise their archery
O how oft shall thou complain
Of a sweet and subtle pain
Of intolerable joys:
Of a death in which who dies
Loves his death and dies again
And would for ever so be slain
And lives and dies and knows not why
To live but that he thus may never leave to die.
How kindly will thy gentle heart
Kiss the sweetly killing dart
And close in his embraces keep
Those delicious wounds that weep
Balm to heal themselves with thus
When these thy deaths so numerous
Shall all at last die into one,
And melt thy soul’s sweet mansion
Like a soft lump of incense hasted
By too hot a fire and wasted
Into perfuming clouds so fast
Shall thou exhale to Heaven at last
In a resolving sigh and then
O what Ask not the tongues of men;
Angels cannot tell suffice
Thyself shall feel thine own full joys
And hold them fast forever there.
So soon as thou shalt first appear
The moon of maiden stars thy white
Mistress attended by such bright
Souls as thy shining self shall come
And in her first ranks make thee room;
Where mongst her snowy family
Immortal welcomes wait for thee
O what delight when reveal’d Life shall stand,
And teach thy lips Heaven with His hand;
On which thou now mayest to thy wishes
Heap up thy consecrated kisses.
What joys shall seize thy soul when she,
Bending her blessed eyes on Thee
Those second smiles of Heav’n shall dart
Her mild rays through
Thy melting heart Angels thy old friends there shall greet thee
Glad at their own home now to meet thee
All thy good works which went before
And waited for thee at the door
Shall own thee there and all in one
Weave a constellation
Of crowns with which the King thy Spouse
Shall build up thy triumphant brows
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee
And thy pains sit bright upon thee
All thy sorrows here shall shine
All thy sufferings be divine
Tears shall take comfort and turn gems
And wrongs repent to diadems.
Ev’n thy death shall live; and new-
Dress the soul that erst he slew.
Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars
As keep account of the Lamb’s wars.
Those rare works where thou shalt leave writ
Love’s noble history with wit Taught thee by none but Him, while here
They feed our souls shall clothe thine there.
Each heavenly word by whose hid flame
Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same
Shall flourish on thy brows and be
Both fire to us and flame to thee
Whose light shall live bright in thy face
By glory in our hearts by grace
Thou shalt look round about and see
Thousands of crowned souls throng to be
Themselves thy crown sons of thy vows
The virgin births with which thy sovereign Spouse
Made fruitful thy fair soul Go now
And with them all about thee bow
To Him put on He’ll say put on
My rosy love that thy rich zone
Sparkling with the sacred flames
Of thousand souls whose happy names
Heav’n keep upon thy score: (Thy bright
Life brought them first to kiss the light,
That kindled them to stars) and so
Thou with the Lamb thy Lord shalt go
And whereso’ere He sets His white
Steps walk with Him those ways of light,
Which who in death would live to see,
Must learn in life to die like thee.”