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Poem by Louise Imogen Guiney


In a Perpendicular Church


The slackened arches never lose their beauty of alarm;
The tall lines frown along the wall, like angels, sword in arm;
And where the vaults diverge, a grove with fancied snow oerspread,
Goes light among a myriad panes, with dust upon her head.

England of old most innocent, whose flower of skill achieved
Failed quick as Lammas lilies, when thy hand no more believed,
What hast thou here, beloved but dead, held to thy childless heart?
Alas, thy human all of heaven: thine own and only Art.



Louise Imogen Guiney


Louise Imogen Guiney's other poems:
  1. Writ in my Lord Clarendons History of the Rebellion
  2. A December Walk
  3. On the Same (continued)
  4. A Last Word on Shelley
  5. The Old Dial of Corpus


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