 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
66
IN THE CLOISTER
Spire, that from half-a-hundred dainty lawns,
O'er battlemented wall and privet-fence,
Dost brood and muse with mild indifference,
Through golden eves and ragged gusty dawns;—
O'er battlemented wall and privet-fence,
Dost brood and muse with mild indifference,
Through golden eves and ragged gusty dawns;—
O cloistered court, O immemorial towers,
O archways, filled from mouldering edge to edge
With sober sunshine, O bird-haunted ledge,
Say, have ye seen her? Shall she soon be ours?
O archways, filled from mouldering edge to edge
With sober sunshine, O bird-haunted ledge,
Say, have ye seen her? Shall she soon be ours?
She, whom we seek, most dear when most denied,
Seen but by sidelong glances, past us slips,
Waves from a window, beckons from a door,
Calls from a thicket by the minster-side,
Presses a flying finger to her lips,
Smiles her sad smile, and passes on before.
Seen but by sidelong glances, past us slips,
Waves from a window, beckons from a door,
Calls from a thicket by the minster-side,
Presses a flying finger to her lips,
Smiles her sad smile, and passes on before.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |