 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
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XII. DISCIPLINE OF THE CHURCH.
(PENITENTIAL 2.)
Too much of mirth—too many smiles—departVain phantoms of the Sense, false baits of sin!
One hour for holy mourning who may win
Amid the clamour of the world's loud mart?
A sigh throws wide the portals of the heart:
Pure Spirits enter: good resolves begin:
How wholesome then that care, how kind that art
The highways of man's life o'ershadowing
With cypress thickets at wide intervals,
And gardens bowered 'mong cedar-darkened rifts
Hollowed with dewy vaults, and silent halls;
Where smooth once more the sould her forehead lifts
And pleasurably spreads a widening eye
Shrunk up too long and dimmed by the sun's tyranny!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |