 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Driffield Church Tower
Upward it springs as with one mighty boundTo commune with the stars; and stands four-square
To battle with the spirits of the air,
That in their windy chariots bluster round.
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While clustered pinnacles of beauty rare
Lift up to Heaven united hands of prayer,
For ever pleading without voice or sound.
'Tis said that he who built this lofty tower
Had vowed a pilgrimage to Palestine,
But, falling sick, left this sky-piercing dower:
O'er smoke and noise it smiles, a silent sign,
And points men age by age and hour by hour
To yonder azure Holy Land divine!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |