MID-DAY AT TRINITY
Thepigeons perch on Trinity,From cowls of saints they croon;In pious patience preen their wingsTill Trinity strikes noon.They make their vows to visions fair,The maids with mid-day smiles;They wait their own communion sweet—The crumbs along the aisles.And presently from Wall Street strollsA princess past a gate;She pries apart a paper boxAs if she scarce could wait.She sinks upon an old settee,Her luncheon in her lap;And other maidens follow her—A score or more, mayhap.The pigeons peer from pinnacles,They see their tables spread;The sugar and the spices strewn,The crusts of creamy bread.The saints upon the walls maintainTheir attitudes benign;But conquered by confusing quests,The doves drift down to dine.
Thepigeons perch on Trinity,From cowls of saints they croon;In pious patience preen their wingsTill Trinity strikes noon.They make their vows to visions fair,The maids with mid-day smiles;They wait their own communion sweet—The crumbs along the aisles.And presently from Wall Street strollsA princess past a gate;She pries apart a paper boxAs if she scarce could wait.She sinks upon an old settee,Her luncheon in her lap;And other maidens follow her—A score or more, mayhap.The pigeons peer from pinnacles,They see their tables spread;The sugar and the spices strewn,The crusts of creamy bread.The saints upon the walls maintainTheir attitudes benign;But conquered by confusing quests,The doves drift down to dine.
Thepigeons perch on Trinity,From cowls of saints they croon;In pious patience preen their wingsTill Trinity strikes noon.
Thepigeons perch on Trinity,
From cowls of saints they croon;
In pious patience preen their wings
Till Trinity strikes noon.
They make their vows to visions fair,The maids with mid-day smiles;They wait their own communion sweet—The crumbs along the aisles.
They make their vows to visions fair,
The maids with mid-day smiles;
They wait their own communion sweet—
The crumbs along the aisles.
And presently from Wall Street strollsA princess past a gate;She pries apart a paper boxAs if she scarce could wait.
And presently from Wall Street strolls
A princess past a gate;
She pries apart a paper box
As if she scarce could wait.
She sinks upon an old settee,Her luncheon in her lap;And other maidens follow her—A score or more, mayhap.
She sinks upon an old settee,
Her luncheon in her lap;
And other maidens follow her—
A score or more, mayhap.
The pigeons peer from pinnacles,They see their tables spread;The sugar and the spices strewn,The crusts of creamy bread.
The pigeons peer from pinnacles,
They see their tables spread;
The sugar and the spices strewn,
The crusts of creamy bread.
The saints upon the walls maintainTheir attitudes benign;But conquered by confusing quests,The doves drift down to dine.
The saints upon the walls maintain
Their attitudes benign;
But conquered by confusing quests,
The doves drift down to dine.