In the Shadows.
A POEM IN SONNETS.
EENTER, scared mortal! and in awe beholdThe chancel of a dying poet’s mind,Hung round, ah! not adorned, with pictures boldAnd quaint, but roughly touched for the refined.The chancel not the charnel house! For ITo God have raised a shrine immaculateTherein, whereon His name to glorify,And daily mercies meekly celebrate.So in, scared breather! here no hint of death—Skull or cross-bones suggesting sceptic fear;Yea rather calmer beauty, purer breathInhaled from a diviner atmosphere.
EENTER, scared mortal! and in awe beholdThe chancel of a dying poet’s mind,Hung round, ah! not adorned, with pictures boldAnd quaint, but roughly touched for the refined.The chancel not the charnel house! For ITo God have raised a shrine immaculateTherein, whereon His name to glorify,And daily mercies meekly celebrate.So in, scared breather! here no hint of death—Skull or cross-bones suggesting sceptic fear;Yea rather calmer beauty, purer breathInhaled from a diviner atmosphere.
EENTER, scared mortal! and in awe beholdThe chancel of a dying poet’s mind,Hung round, ah! not adorned, with pictures boldAnd quaint, but roughly touched for the refined.The chancel not the charnel house! For ITo God have raised a shrine immaculateTherein, whereon His name to glorify,And daily mercies meekly celebrate.So in, scared breather! here no hint of death—Skull or cross-bones suggesting sceptic fear;Yea rather calmer beauty, purer breathInhaled from a diviner atmosphere.
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