Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS

IN SERIES, 1821-22. PART III.

XL. CONTINUED

          MINE ear has rung, my spirit sunk subdued,
          Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd,
          When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed
          While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood,
          That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed
          Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite
          Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might
          Of simple truth with grace divine imbued;
          Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross,
          Like men ashamed: the Sun with his first smile              10
          Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile:
          And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn
          Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss
          Creep round its arms through centuries unborn.


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