Love Among the Saints
At Assisi is the Church
Well I know the frescoed wall:
Colours dim, Martyrs slim.
Saints you scarcely see at all.
Till the slanting sunbeams search
Through the church,
Waking life where'er they fall.
Every evening wall and vault,
Saint and city, starts and wakes.
One by one, as the sun
Broadens through the dusk, and makes
Greys and reds, and deep cobalt
Of the vault
Teem with Saints, and towers, and lakes.
High among them, clear to see.
Is one stately fresco set;
There they stand, hand in hand.
Bride and bridegroom gravely met,
Francis and Saint Poverty.
Well I see
All the Saints attending, yet.
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