 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
XLI.
Pompous!—but love I not such pomp of prayer;Ill bends the heart 'mid mortal luxury.
Rather let me the meek devotion share,
Where, in their silent glens and thickets high,
England, thy lone and lowly chapels lie.
The spotless table by the eastern wall,
The marble, rudely traced with names gone by,
The pale-eyed pastor's simple, fervent call;
Those deeper wake the heart, where heart is all in all.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |