Cathedral
The square in front of Notre Dame,
I fancy it must look the same;
With trampled snow, and pigeons drifting
From sky to earth; Cathedral lifting
Its classic spires … aloof … austere …
It must be like it was last year.
Remember the tall Franciscan monk
With the blowing beard, that was red as flame …
And his earth-brown robes, and his sandaled feet …
Remember? (You called me a darling name!)
Remember … I borrowed your handkerchief
To tie on my head … that we might go in?
It was quiet, and dark - and warm and still
With the whisper of "Aves", murmuring.
And we stood at the shrine of Sacre Coeur
To light a candle against the day,
Too terribly soon … when a boat would sail …
And you held my hand … and forgot to pray.
And suddenly-everything seemed so dear …
So precious, so lovely, so brief, and fair,
The whispered "Aves" … the little hearts …
The candle shine on your darling hair.
The square in front of Notre Dame …
I fancy it must look the same.
Only … one candle less, this year,
At Sacre Coeur, my dear … my dear!
You Wrote
You wrote:
"The Abbey pillars are worn smooth.
Hundreds of shoulders leaned against their strength,
Age after age,
To set their smoothness, there .."
And they shall lean again
Because of lads like you,
Who wear their wings
And find these things as wonderful
As they had seemed
On printed pages head in nursery days!