I passed beneath the stately Norman portal,
I trod the stones that pilgrim feet have trod,
I passed between the pillars tall and slender,
That yearn to heaven as man's soul yearns to God.
The coloured glory of the pictured windows
Fell on me as I kneeled before the shrine
Where, round the image of the Mother-maiden,
The countless flames of love-lit tapers shine.
The hymn rose on the wings of children's voices,
The incense thrilled my soul to voiceless prayer
With scent of dear dead days, and years forgotten —
And all the soul of all the past was there.
But in my heart as there I kneeled before her,
Not to the Mother-maid the winged prayers flew —
They passed her by and sought, instead, your presence;
The incense of my soul was burned for you.
For you, for you were all the tapers lighted,
For you the flowers were on the altar laid,
For you the hymn rose thrilling through the chancel
To the clerestory's mysteries of shade.
To you the anthems of a thousand churches
Rose where the taper-pointed flames burned clear;
To you — through all these leagues of deathly distance,
To you — as unattainable as dear.
Dear as the dreams life never brings to blossom,
Lost as the seeds hope sowed, which never grew,
Pure as the love which only you could waken,
Prayer, incense, tears, and love were all for you!