Short Flights by Meredith Nicholson - HTML preview

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DOWN THE AISLES.

LONE here in vague cathedral gloom I sit,

Far from the busy city’s noise and jar.

Such calm! It seems God might just now have writ

A new, sweet song of peace and whispered it

From star to star.

I almost hear a sacred anthem pealing,

As o’er the quiet aisles I turn my eyes;

It seems I hear soft prayers to heaven stealing

Up rays that lead unto the Light-revealing

In Paradise.

I think: “How oft have feet of mourners led

Down these long aisles where perfect silence reigns!

How oft have heart-uniting words been said

There at the altar, whither flowers were spread

From Love’s fair plains!”

Yes, Death and Love have hither come and gone,

With slow, sad songs, with anthems glad and free;

And still, without, the world treads on and on

In aisles that lead to darkness—or the Dawn,

O God, and Thee!