Sunday, December 7, 2014

THE CHURCHYARD

By Sir William Watson



I wandered far in the wold,
And after heat and glare,
I came at eve at a churchyard old:
The yew-trees seemed at prayer.
 
And round me was dust in dust;
And fleeting Light; and Repose;
And the infinite pathos of human trust
In a God whom no man knows.
 
 
 
 


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