What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in size
Enormous, dragged, while side by side they sate,
By panting steers up to this convent gate?
How, with empurpled cheeks and pampered eyes,
Dare they confront the lean austerities
Of Brethren who, here fixed, on Jesu wait
In sackcloth, and God’s anger deprecate
Through all that humbles flesh and mortifies?
Strange contrast! verily the world of dreams,
Where mingle, as for mockery combined,
Things in their very essences at strife,
Shows not a sight incongruous as the extremes
That everywhere, before the thoughtful mind,
Meet on the solid ground of waking life.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - XVIII. - At Vallombrosa
- Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - XX. - Before The Picture Of The Baptist, By Raphael, In The Gallery At Florence
- Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - XXI. - At Florence - From Michael Angelo
- Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - XXII. - At Florence - From M. Angelo
- Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - XXIII. - Among The Ruins Of A Convent In The Apennines
Write poetry? Submit your poem to Poetry Catalog