INTO the church with pray'r go by, But throw a glance as in you go At this small nest that's hanging nigh The portico. On temples resonant with pray'r The swallow all untrained and true, Doth build a little shrine more fair, More full of blue. The old porch moss doth softer grow Round fledgelings that the summer brings, And they grow quick in the warm glow Of Christ's own wings. The shrine where shadows long have lain Is thrilled with babble of delight; The nest is full of mirth. The fane Is full of night. The never-flinching saints that hear The arching doorways shake above, Are glad to feel themselves so near To spring and love. The virgins and the seers incline From their gaunt eyries fain to brood Over these hives of birds that shrine Love's holy food. A bird upon an angel falls; The apostle smiles upon his shelf, "Good day to you, brave saint!" he calls. "Good day, winged elf!" In shrines is beauty manifest, And high they soar on heaven's blue; But in the summer swallow's nest God dwelleth too. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 3 by GEORGE BARKER FAREWELL TO ARMS by GEORGE PEELE MY NATIVE LAND by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS MID-OCEAN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A COMMENT ON THE SCRIPTURE: 'IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD', JOHN, I,1 by JOHN BYROM WRETTEN MY ME ON THE DEATH OF MY CHILD PERIGRENE PAYLER by MARY CAREY SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 27 by BLISS CARMAN |