Classic Poem

( " L'eglise est vaste et haute. " )

The Church is vast; its towering pride, its steeples loom on on high;
The bristling stones with leaf and flower are sculptured wondrously;
The portal glows respondent with its " rose, "
And 'neath the vault immense at evening swarm
Figures of angel, saint, or demon's form,
As oft a fearful world our dreams disclose.
But not the huge Cathedral's height, nor yet its vault sublime,
Nor porch, nor glass, nor streaks of light, nor shadows deep with time;
Nor massy towers, that fascinate mine eyes;
No, 'tis that spot — the mind's tranquillity —
Chamber wherefrom the song mounts cheerily,
Placed like a joyful nest well nigh the skies.
Yea! glorious is the Church, I ween, but Meekness dwelleth here;
Less do I love the lofty oak than mossy nest it bear;
More dear is meadow breath than stormy wind:
And when my mind for meditation's meant,
The seaweed is preferred to the shore's extent, —
The swallow to the main it leaves behind.