And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 76
‘Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.
Dear heart,’ I said, ‘we are long alone.
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.’
But, ah, she gave me never a look, 80
For her eyes were sealed to the holy book.
‘Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.’
Come away, children, call no more.
Come away, come down, call no more.