November 27, 1929


I noted the chiseled turrets

Myriad rising toward the sky,

And the curious old bronze doorway . . .

I could not pass it by.


I gazed with awe at the columns,

Their giant massive length

Towering among the arches

In adamantine strength.


My shod feet seemed a sacrilege

On the old mosaic floor,

Patterned from some ages temple

In dim far days of yore.


I stood beneath the windows

Where the light falls soft and dim,

Where the Christ was silhouetted

I came face to face with Him.


It seemed to me He entered

That silent holy place;

That His Presence filled the temple

As I gazed upon His face.

This entry was posted in Green Mountain Echoes, Poems and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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