Читать книгу The House of the Trees & Other Poems - A. Ethelwyn Wetherald - Страница 17

HERE ’mid these leafy walls

Are sylvan halls,

And all the Sabbaths of the year

Are gathered here.

Upon their raptured mood

My steps intrude,

Then wait—as some freed soul might wait

At heaven’s gate.

Nowhere on earth—nowhere

On sea or air,

Do I as easily escape

This earthly shape,

As here upon the white

And dizzy height

Of utmost worship, where it seems

Too still for dreams.