the chill of echoed silence hangs in the air
like dampness haunting well thumbed pages
of the grubby books by the door he would select from
in those days of childhood domain
drawn to this place for its presence and dignity
where medieval serfdom bore sweat of labour
to create this majestic monument of faithful endeavor
and bear their duty of procession herein
a place of restful thought from troubled day
meditation \'neath the gaudy finery and polished brass
amid the splendor of stained glass coloured light cascades
mindfully here to contemplate the unanswerable