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Poem by John McCrae The Dying of Pere Pierre ". . . with two other priests; the same night he died, and was buried by the shores of the lake that bears his name." Chronicle. "Nay, grieve not that ye can no honour give To these poor bones that presently must be But carrion; since I have sought to live Upon God's earth, as He hath guided me, I shall not lack! Where would ye have me lie? High heaven is higher than cathedral nave: Do men paint chancels fairer than the sky?" Beside the darkened lake they made his grave, Below the altar of the hills; and night Swung incense clouds of mist in creeping lines That twisted through the tree-trunks, where the light Groped through the arches of the silent pines: And he, beside the lonely path he trod, Lay, tombed in splendour, in the House of God. John McCrae John McCrae's other poems: 1192 Views |
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