Gently I walked into abandoned church
I saw her alter growing weeds, and her priest burning with God's words in his fists
I saw his fumes flying freely to the sky
But it's not a sacrifice ...
LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
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