 | A book of Bristol sonnets |  |
134
TINTERN ABBEY.
Where orchards bloom, and morning pastures steam,Beggared by storm, and man's inconstancy,
A ruined Temple on the banks of Wye
Lifts, like the sweet unfolding of a dream;
An agèd harp, that plays an ageless theme!
Above the ground where knight and abbot lie,
Still in the choir the wind makes melody,
And full of song the chantry cloisters seem!
Sing, for the river has the words by heart,
“To serve a purpose, and to pass away;”
So all the hills, that sentinel thee, say;
So mean the happy Swallows as they dart!
Man, fretful, with the Bible on his knee,
Has need of such sweet musicker as thee!
| A book of Bristol sonnets | |