ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS
XL. CONTINUED
ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS
MINE ear has rung, my spirit sunk subdued, Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd, When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood, That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might Of simple truth with grace divine imbued; Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross, Like men ashamed: the Sun with his first smile 10 Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile: And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss Creep round its arms through centuries unborn.