GLASTONBURY
Grey among the meadows, solitary, bare:Thy walls dismantled, and thy rafters low,Naked to every wind and chilly airThat steeps the neighbouring marsh, yet standest thou,Great cloistral monument of other days!Though marked by all the storms that beat thee through,A radiant Parable of heavenly waysThat scarce thy lordly builders guess'd or knew!Vanishing image of great service done,Smiling to God under the open sky:Even in thy translation, stone by stone,Keeping thy spirit-grace and symmetry,Through ruined clerestory and broken roodOur chastened souls with tears ascend to God.A. M. Buckton: fromSongs of Joy
Grey among the meadows, solitary, bare:Thy walls dismantled, and thy rafters low,Naked to every wind and chilly airThat steeps the neighbouring marsh, yet standest thou,Great cloistral monument of other days!Though marked by all the storms that beat thee through,A radiant Parable of heavenly waysThat scarce thy lordly builders guess'd or knew!Vanishing image of great service done,Smiling to God under the open sky:Even in thy translation, stone by stone,Keeping thy spirit-grace and symmetry,Through ruined clerestory and broken roodOur chastened souls with tears ascend to God.A. M. Buckton: fromSongs of Joy
Grey among the meadows, solitary, bare:Thy walls dismantled, and thy rafters low,Naked to every wind and chilly airThat steeps the neighbouring marsh, yet standest thou,Great cloistral monument of other days!Though marked by all the storms that beat thee through,A radiant Parable of heavenly waysThat scarce thy lordly builders guess'd or knew!Vanishing image of great service done,Smiling to God under the open sky:Even in thy translation, stone by stone,Keeping thy spirit-grace and symmetry,Through ruined clerestory and broken roodOur chastened souls with tears ascend to God.A. M. Buckton: fromSongs of Joy
Grey among the meadows, solitary, bare:
Thy walls dismantled, and thy rafters low,
Naked to every wind and chilly air
That steeps the neighbouring marsh, yet standest thou,
Great cloistral monument of other days!
Though marked by all the storms that beat thee through,
A radiant Parable of heavenly ways
That scarce thy lordly builders guess'd or knew!
Vanishing image of great service done,
Smiling to God under the open sky:
Even in thy translation, stone by stone,
Keeping thy spirit-grace and symmetry,
Through ruined clerestory and broken rood
Our chastened souls with tears ascend to God.
A. M. Buckton: fromSongs of Joy