ALONG the sculptures of the western wall I watched the moonlight creeping: It moved as if it hardly moved at all, Inch by inch thinly peeping Round on the pious figures of freestone, brought And poised there when the Universe was wrought To serve its centre, Earth, in mankind's thought. The lunar look skimmed scantly toe, breast, arm, Then edged on slowly, slightly, To shoulder, hand, face; till each austere form Was blanched its whole length brightly Of prophet, king, queen, cardinal in state, That dead men's tools had striven to simulate; And the stiff images stood irradiate. A frail moan from the martyred saints there set Mid others of the erection Against the breeze, seemed sighings of regret At the ancient faith's rejection Under the sure, unhasting, steady stress Of Reason's movement, making meaningless The coded creeds of old-time godliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SNEEZING by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT ELOISA TO ABELARD by ALEXANDER POPE THE HAND OF LINCOLN by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE SHRINE OF VENUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON IN PRAISE OF A COUNTRY LIFE by PHILIP AYRES THE PACIFIC RAILWAY by C. R. BALLARD THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD GHOST-BEREFT; A SCENE FROM BOGLAND IN WAR-TIME by JANE BARLOW |