Elizabeth Madox Roberts

From “Under the Tree”

THE CHURCH has pieces jutting out

Where corners of the walls begin.

I have one for my little house,

And I can feel myself go in.

I feel myself go in the bricks,

And I can see myself in there.

I’m always waiting all alone,

I’m sitting on a little chair.

And I am sitting very still,

And I am waiting on and on

For something that is never there,

For something that is gone.