What awful perspective! while from our sight
With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide
Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, dyed
In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light.
Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite,
Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen,
Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen,
Shine on, until ye fade with coming Night!
But, from the arms of silence, list! O list!
The music bursteth into second life;
The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed
By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife;
Heart-thrilling strains, that cast, before the eye
Of the devout, a veil of ecstasy!
Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part Iii. - Xliv - The Same
William Wordsworth
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Poem topics: heart, life, light, music, night, silence, work, king, prison, ghost, hide, shine, soft, strife, sound, stone, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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