Poem by Maria Jane Jewsbury

To a Village Church

   Sainted spot,
   With peace and love and hope imbued!

                               Alaric A. Watts.

WHY art thou precious, fane obscure,
Undecked by nature, art, or pride,
The treasure of one hamlet poor,
Unknown to all beside;
With rocky hills around thee strewed,
And thou hewn from them, low and rude?
Why art thou fair? no sabbath suns
Guide proud processions to thy door,
Nor priestly pomp, nor song of nuns,
Within, their influence pour;
One lowly man of God alone,
And rites as simple are thine own.
I muse on thee, till straight arise
To Thought's creating view,
The stately domes of other skies,
And those the old world knew;
Till these dark hills and barren globes,
Give place to Ephesus and Thebes.
I see the lovely Delphic shrine,
Far off in snowy brightness glow;
Mark the rich gloom, profound, divine,
The laurels round it throw;
Ev'n Zion's temple I behold,
A marble mountain lined with gold.
This air becomes enchanted breath,
Where melodies and odours blend;
Crowned victims move along to death,
Triumphant shouts ascend;
All strange sweet visions float around,
All glorious things of sight and sound.
I start and fancy's reign is o'er,
My dream is with the dews of morn,
Temple, and shrine, and grove no more
This lonely wild adorn;
Meek structure !yet since thou art here,
They claim not, nor deserve a tear.
Thou art no gorgeous dwelling-place
For idol-gods and rights impure,
Nor hast thou sculptured forms of grace,
Sin's empire to secure;
The spirit, and the truth are thine,
Knowledge immortal! light divine!
Kings crowd not to thine altar mean,
To bribe thy oracles with gold,
But rustic worshippers are seen,
Sheep of a Christian fold;
Who hear of life beyond the grave,
And joys Elysium never gave.
Nor Zion's glories once so dear,
Need we to quicken or control,
Pillar and cloud were useless here
Thou temple of the soul!
Where Christ is seen by faith's meek eyes,
Shechinah both and sacrifice.
So thou art precious, fane obscure,
Undecked by Nature, art, or pride,
The treasure of one hamlet poor,
Unknown to all beside;
With rocky hills around thee strewed,
And thou hewn from them, low and rude.

1. Dreams of Heaven
2. The Oceanides. No. 5. Address to the Deep
3. The Oceanides. No. 6. The Voyager's Regret
4. Now Mine Eyes Seeth Thee
5. Earth and Heaven

Print

1261 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version