What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in size
Enormous, dragged, while side by side they sate,
By panting steers up to this convent gate?
How, with empurpled cheeks and pampered eyes,
Dare they confront the lean austerities
Of Brethren who, here fixed, on Jesu wait
In sackcloth, and God's anger deprecate
Through all that humbles flesh and mortifies?
Strange contrast! verily the world of dreams,
Where mingle, as for mockery combined,
Things in their very essences at strife,
Shows not a sight incongruous as the extremes
That everywhere, before the thoughtful mind,
Meet on the solid ground of waking life.
Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - Xvii. - At The Eremite Or Upper Convent Of Camaldoli
William Wordsworth
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Poem topics: anger, god, life, world, wait, mind, strange, strife, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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