| The poetical works of Henry Alford | ||
The winds are high in Saint Michael's Tor,
And a sorry sight is there,—
A dark-browed band, with spear in hand,
Mount up the turret-stair;
With heavy cheer and lifted palms
There kneels a holy priest;
The fiends of death they grudge his breath,
To hold their rapine-feast.
And a sorry sight is there,—
A dark-browed band, with spear in hand,
Mount up the turret-stair;
With heavy cheer and lifted palms
There kneels a holy priest;
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To hold their rapine-feast.
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | ||