Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Tint the red flame, and paint the gazing Scarce can the classic pilgrim, sweeping And weeds offend the pilgrim now, free From fallen architrave the desert vine, BETHUNE. Where flaunted priest and glittered tower. They come they come! from silent shrines Of Gunga, and the blue Selwin: Though dumb, to us convincing signs Of rising truth and falling sin. TAPPAN. |