 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
Upon a tract
Of lonely stone doth stand Christopolis,
And all around for leagues the rocks and sands
Stretch bleak and bare; and not a bird thereon
Flieth, save kite and crow; and here and there,
At intervals, black Crosses point the path,
And whitely strewn at every Cross's feet
There bleach the bones of pilgrims who have died.
Of lonely stone doth stand Christopolis,
And all around for leagues the rocks and sands
Stretch bleak and bare; and not a bird thereon
Flieth, save kite and crow; and here and there,
At intervals, black Crosses point the path,
And whitely strewn at every Cross's feet
There bleach the bones of pilgrims who have died.
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |