GLASTONBURY
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!