04.07.2007, 22:42
At Wells
II Matins
Clamor of rooks from pinnacle and spire
Hails an encrimsoned east; but chill and gray
Below the pillared vistas arch away
Through shadowy nave to glory-smitten choir,
Where Orient sunbeams thrill with jeweled fire
The dreaming glass that blossoms unto day
In roseate plumes and golden halo-ray
And seraph faces rapt with God-desire.
Ah, yet these walls, though hoary with the woe
And shrift of centuries, are all too strait
For such a splendor. From the elm-roofed lawn,
Where thostles chant and streams responsive flow,
I'll worship Him on Whom my longings wait,
Before the great east window of the dawn.
II Matins
Clamor of rooks from pinnacle and spire
Hails an encrimsoned east; but chill and gray
Below the pillared vistas arch away
Through shadowy nave to glory-smitten choir,
Where Orient sunbeams thrill with jeweled fire
The dreaming glass that blossoms unto day
In roseate plumes and golden halo-ray
And seraph faces rapt with God-desire.
Ah, yet these walls, though hoary with the woe
And shrift of centuries, are all too strait
For such a splendor. From the elm-roofed lawn,
Where thostles chant and streams responsive flow,
I'll worship Him on Whom my longings wait,
Before the great east window of the dawn.