---

Ernest Christopher Dowson - Extreme Unction
Work rating: Low

Upon the eyes, the lips, the feet,
    On all the passages of sense,
  The atoning oil is spread with sweet
    Renewal of lost innocence.

  The feet, that lately ran so fast
    To meet desire, are soothly sealed;
  The eyes, that were so often cast
    On vanity, are touched and healed.

  From troublous sights and sounds set free;
    In such a twilight hour of breath,
  Shall one retrace his life, or see,
    Through shadows, the true face of death?

  Vials of mercy! Sacring oils!
    I know not where nor when I come,
  Nor through what wanderings and toils,
    To crave of you Viaticum.

  Yet, when the walls of flesh grow weak,
    In such an hour, it well may be,
  Through mist and darkness, light will break,
    And each anointed sense will see.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.