In the Shadows: the Priest
How long is it now, I wonder—
A thousand years, at least,
Here the dark vault under,
Feet to the East,
Supposed to be Paradise-walking, a purgèd priest!
Well, none of them see me, thank heaven,
As they pass me here on the hill—
So long as they live they're shriven,
And when they come here—they are still.
A thousand years, at least,
Here the dark vault under,
Feet to the East,
Supposed to be Paradise-walking, a purgèd priest!
Well, none of them see me, thank heaven,
As they pass me here on the hill—
So long as they live they're shriven,
And when they come here—they are still.
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