 | Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan |  |
34
IN A CATHEDRAL.
Up in the roof the carver wrought,
Creating many a lovely thing;
His hand's true service shaped his thought,
He toiled to please no crownèd king,
But the dear Christ whose image dim
Gazed from the tall rood under him.
Creating many a lovely thing;
His hand's true service shaped his thought,
He toiled to please no crownèd king,
But the dear Christ whose image dim
Gazed from the tall rood under him.
Patiently, oh, patiently,
His flowers unfolded from the wood;
His fruit grew on the long-dead tree;
His elves took life, a sportive brood;
He fashioned many a singing-bird
Whose lovely silence praised the Lord.
His flowers unfolded from the wood;
His fruit grew on the long-dead tree;
His elves took life, a sportive brood;
He fashioned many a singing-bird
Whose lovely silence praised the Lord.
He made a row of vines in fruit,
And peaches on a southern wall,
And here a sad and stringless lute
With dulcimers unmusical,
And roses red and lilies white,
And stars that lit no heaven at night.
And peaches on a southern wall,
And here a sad and stringless lute
With dulcimers unmusical,
And roses red and lilies white,
And stars that lit no heaven at night.
35
His woodland creatures gazed at you
Out from old boughs with lichen sere;
And flying birds that never flew
Soared in the summer dusk up here,
Where a young angel prayed and smiled,
For all his wings a human child.
Out from old boughs with lichen sere;
And flying birds that never flew
Soared in the summer dusk up here,
Where a young angel prayed and smiled,
For all his wings a human child.
The patient carver toiled apart;
The world roared on—a world away.
No earthly ties were round his heart,
No passion stirred his quiet day;
His carvings in the cloister dim
Made home, and wife, and child to him.
The world roared on—a world away.
No earthly ties were round his heart,
No passion stirred his quiet day;
His carvings in the cloister dim
Made home, and wife, and child to him.
He was so young when he began—
A fair-haired boy, whose wistful eyes
Saw earth and heaven, and scarcely man,
But weighed large issues and were wise:
The years that all unheeded sped
Shook their grey dusts upon his head.
A fair-haired boy, whose wistful eyes
Saw earth and heaven, and scarcely man,
But weighed large issues and were wise:
The years that all unheeded sped
Shook their grey dusts upon his head.
And when this wilderness of shade,
Far from men's eyes, made God's heart glad,
He woke from dreams, and, undismayed,
Knew he was old, and cold, and sad;
He kissed his nerveless good right hand,
And died—his name was writ in sand.
Far from men's eyes, made God's heart glad,
He woke from dreams, and, undismayed,
Knew he was old, and cold, and sad;
He kissed his nerveless good right hand,
And died—his name was writ in sand.
| Ballads and Lyrics by Katharine Tynan | |