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...A CHILD'S PET by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES L'ENVOI: THE RETURN OF THE SIRE DE NESLE, A.D. 16 - by HERMAN MELVILLE ON BURNING A DULL POEM; WRITTEN IN 1729 by JONATHAN SWIFT THE WINDOW; OR, THE SONG OF THE WRENS: MARRIAGE MORNING by ALFRED TENNYSON THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: EURIPIDES by ARISTOPHANES |