I THREADED endless aisles Of level trees, of spare, Undeviating wood; I penetrated streets Of houses parallel; I crossed a common where My day paused sentinel; At evenfall I stood Before the dim defiles Of dusk, where light retreats, Immured in sombre ward. The sheathed sun went down; Opaque was heaven's frown; Mountains, looming grey, Framed the threshold -- yea -- The portal to the Lord. |