THE Men who called their passion piety, And wrecked this noble argosy of faith, -- They little thought how beauteous could be Death, How fair the face of Time's aye deepe'ning sea! Nor arms that desolate, nor years that flee, Nor hearts that fail, can utterly deflower This grassy floor of sacramental power Where we now stand commu'nicants -- even We, We of this latter, still protestant age, With priestly ministrations of the Sun And Moon and multitudinous quire of stars Maintain this consecration, and assuage With tender thoughts the past of weary wars, Masking with good that ill which cannot be undone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DECEPTION PASS; FOR JUDY AND MARK KAWASAKI by KAREN SWENSON WINDOW TRIMMER by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY AN INVENTORY OF THE FURNITURE IN DR. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MISS MILLY O'NAIRE by WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER BALAUSTION'S ADVENTURE: PART 2 by ROBERT BROWNING |