St Michael’s Chapel

 

Here falls the light unstained by glass

In a white flood in grass

And only shadows pass.

 

Birds on the wing comprise the choir,

And from fragmented spire

Harebells alone aspire.

 

A gentle music comes with rain

That with mournful refrain

Sings of forgotten slain.

 

Here is no altar, no high cross,

Only tall trees that toss

Indifferent to loss.

 

But in the restless seaborne air

Is heard no deep despair,

Only a mute insistence everywhere

Amid the ruins God is there!