III.
She looks up the forest whose alleys shoot on Like the mute minster-aisles when the anthem is done And the choristers sitting with faces aslant Feel the silence to consecrate more than the chant-- "Onora, Onora!"
She looks up the forest whose alleys shoot on Like the mute minster-aisles when the anthem is done And the choristers sitting with faces aslant Feel the silence to consecrate more than the chant-- "Onora, Onora!"