In hollow pastures misted with the spume Of waves that crash against the minster wall Hild counseled kings or won, as Christ's own thrall, A savage thane, crowned with a heron's plume; And when faint candles lit the winter gloom, The cowherd's harp rang through her rush-strewn hall, While white nuns listening heard how angels fall And wove the tale to deck a hero's tomb. Her lost world fades into the centuries' night, With all the wonder of old simple things -- Great visions seen and starry hopes set free; Yet still men seek her where the Rood shines bright Against the ancient dust, and Caedmon sings High in her garth above the lonely sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM ON QUEEN CAROLINE'S DEATHBED by ALEXANDER POPE HEAVEN by NANCY WOODBURY PRIEST ANDROMEDA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ODE TO THE CONNECTICUT RIVER by JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD COMFORT IN AFFLICTION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN PLORATA VERIS LACHRYMIS by WILLIAM BARNES ON THE PRAIRIE by HERBERT BATES |