The Queen of the Angels

Her church is on the Plaza Of the old Spanish town, Where swarthy men and women In the noon go up and down.

Day long and year long The palm-tree shadows fall With the slow-creeping sunlight On the yellow plaster wall.

Day long and year long The weathered doors are wide, That the broken may find healing And the wayworn turn aside.

For the lonely and distraught ones There is sanctuary here, There is pity in the stillness, And compassion for a tear.

Young lovers find her altar Where many candles burn, And breathe their hopes before her And bare their hearts that yearn.

They look upon their Lady, And poor is her attire, But her eyes are like the lilac For the pain of their desire.

A heavy dull offender, Laden with miseries, Up the long aisle in penance Goes meekly on her knees.

No suppliant too lowly, No sinner too afraid. Our Lady of the Angels Is merciful to aid.

She lifts a hand to bless them, Forgiving sin and shame; She is acquaint with sorrow, And Mary is her name.