Under the groined firmament of the cathedral, In the eternal sunset of emblazoned windows Lie the dead ladies Who were too proud to rot Except in the palaces of God. Their effigies above them are haughty and delicate, Withdrawn into the secrecy of marble; Their long fingers rest lightly upon their breasts, And they close their eyes Indifferent to the glances upon them. The Virgin stands with her arms outstretched to every passerby But the dead ladies lie at their ease Too arrogant to stir even to the whispers of their lovers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF AUTUMN by PAUL VERLAINE AT DOVER CLIFFS, JULY 20, 1787 by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THE CELLO by RICHARD WATSON GILDER THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS |