Rosalind Mason

From “Poems of Happiness”

I ENTERED the Cathedral—

Not a Gothic one, with broadly spreading arches,

But with dwarfed limbs, tortured

By economy.

It was draped in feeble mourning,

And a purple memorial to a ponderous bishop

Hung before the altar of Christ.

To the right was a candle-lit shrine,

Of raw colors.

Before it knelt a man—

Eyes closed, hands raised, lips moving—

A passion of prayer.

Perhaps he had been caught in a crime—

Was smitten with disease—owed money,

And was afraid.

Perhaps—perhaps—

But there was the faith—

Filling and surrounding him,

Filling the air, filling the church

With clouds of ecstasy.

And he crossed himself,

As if he marked the sign

On his soul—

And on the world.

Then he took his paper

And his hat,

And went to catch the trolley.

Oh, my dim eyes!—

How often divinity wears

A derby hat,

And carries

A sporting extra!