Realms quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace,
The Church, by mandate shadowing forth the power
She arrogates o’er heaven’s eternal door,
Closes the gates of every sacred place.
Straight from the sun and tainted air’s embrace
All sacred things are covered: cheerful morn
Grows sad as night, no seemly garb is worn,
Nor is a face allowed to meet a face
With natural smiles of greeting. Bells are dumb;
Ditches are graves, funereal rites denied;
And in the churchyard he must take his bride
Who dares be wedded! Fancies thickly come
Into the pensive heart ill fortified,
And comfortless despairs the soul benumb.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part I. - XXXVII - Papal Abuses
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part I. - XXXVIII - Scene In Venice
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part I. From The Introduction Of Christianity Into Britain, To The Consummation Of The Papal Dominion - Introduction
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part II. - I - How Soon, Alas!
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part II. - II - From False Assumption Rose
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