 | Western windows and other poems |  |
231
THE STRANGE ORGANIST.
Deep in the dim cathedral gloom,
Where incense all the ages rose,
I walk, alone. The mystic bloom
Of saintly silence round me glows.
Where incense all the ages rose,
I walk, alone. The mystic bloom
Of saintly silence round me glows.
High Church of Song! O hallow'd place,
Where haunt the hymns of bards of old!
Light shone on many a lifted face
When holy floods of music roll'd.
Where haunt the hymns of bards of old!
Light shone on many a lifted face
When holy floods of music roll'd.
Deep in the dim cathedral hush
I stand alone, the Organ's keys
Touching with wandering fingers—blush,
Sad soul, what harmonies are these!
I stand alone, the Organ's keys
Touching with wandering fingers—blush,
Sad soul, what harmonies are these!
| Western windows and other poems | |