The Squire’s Pew
A SLANTING ray of evening light
Shoots through the yellow pane ;
It makes the faded crimson bright,
And gilds the fringe again :
The window's gothic frame-work falls
In oblique shadow on the walls.
And since those trappings first were new,
How many a cloudless day,
To rob the velvet of its hue,
Has come and passed away !
How many a setting sun hath made
That curious lattice-work of shade !
Crumbled beneath the hillock green
The cunning hand must be,
That carved this fretted door, I ween,
Acorn, and fleur-de-lis ;
And now the worm hath done her part
In mimicking the chisel's art.
In days of yore (that now we call)
When the first James was king,
The courtly knight from yonder hall
Hither his train did bring ;
All seated round in order due,
With broidered suit and buckled shoe.
On damask cushions, set in fringe,
All reverently they knelt :
Prayer-books, with brazen hasp and hinge,
In ancient English spelt
Each holding in a lily hand,
Responsive at the priest's command.
--Now, streaming down the vaulted aisle,
The sunbeam, long and lone,
Illumes the characters awhile
Of their inscription stone ;
And there, in marble bard and cold,
The knight and all his train behold.
Outstretched together, are expressed
He, and my lady fair,
With hands uplifted on the breast,
In attitude of prayer ;
Long visaged, clad in armour, he,--
With ruffled arm and bodice, she.
Set forth, in order as they died,
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poem by Jane Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
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