A
NOCTURNE.
|
|
IN
the little French church at the bend of the river,
When rainy and loud was the wind
in the night,
An altar-lamp burnt to the mighty Grace-giver,
The Holy Child Jesus—the
Light of the Light.
It was hung on a chain from the roof, and was
swinging,
|
5 |
As
if the unseemly commotion to chide,
Like the choir-master’s baton when hushing
the singing,
Or the tongue of the bell when
its tollings subside.
It lit up the poor paper flowers on the altar,
And odd were the shadows it
scattered around
|
10 |
On
the pulpit and lectern, on choir-seat and psalter,
While the chains threw the ghost
of a cross on the ground. [Page 61]
The people at home in their cabins were sleeping,
The curé was tucked in
his four-posted bed;
While under the willows the river was creeping
|
15 |
| As
if silent with fear of the wind overhead.
But the little dark church had its own congregation—
The shadows that swayed on the
pews and the floor—
While the rafters that creaked were a choir whose
laudation
Had an organ for base in the
hurricane’s roar.
|
20 |
The rusty gilt cock on the flèche
was the preacher,
And scolding and grumpy his voice
was to hear,
As he turned to the storm like some faithful old
teacher
Who prophesies hard things regardless
of fear.
But the service reflected the state of the weather,
|
25 |
For
though each, I must say, did his part with a will,
The preacher and choir spoke and sang all together,
And the shapes on the benches
would never sit still. [Page 62]
Yet there was the Host in the midst of the altar,
Where that little red curtain
of damask was hung—
|
30 |
The
God whom King David has praised in the psalter,
And to whom the whole choir of
the ages has sung.
But so big is the heart of our God, the Life-giver,
That in it life’s humour
and pathos both meet;
So I doubt not that night in the church by the
river,
|
35 |
| The
poor old storm’s service to Him sounded sweet.
[Page 63] |
40 |
|
|
| |
