Chapter VII: Notre Dame

Through colored glass, on burnished walls,
Soft as a psalm, the sunlight falls;
And, in the corners, cool and dim,
Its glow is like a vesper hymn.
And, arch by arch, the ceilings high
Rise like a hand stretched toward the sky
To touch God's hand. On every side
Is misty silence; and the wide
Untroubled spaces seem to tell
That Peace is come--and all is well!

A slender woman kneels in prayer;
The sunlight slants across her hair;
A pallid child in rusty black
Stands in the doorway, looking back....
A poilu gropes (his eyes are wide)
Along the altar rail. The tide
Of war has cast him brokenly
Upon the shore of life. I see
A girl in costly furs, who cries
Against her muff; I see her rise
And hurry out. Two tourists pause
Beside the grated chancel doors,
To wonder and to speculate;
To stoop and read a carven date.

In uniform the nations come;
Their voices are a steady hum
Until they feel some subtle thrill
That makes them falter, holds them still--
Bronzed boys, who shrugged and laughed at death,
They stand today with indrawn breath,
Half mystified.
The colors steal
Into my heart, and I can feel
The rapture that the artists knew
Who, centuries before me, drew
Their very souls into the glass
Of every window..... Hours pass
Like beads of amber that are strung
Upon a rainbow, frail and young.

Through mellow glass, on hallowed walls,
The twilight, like faint music, falls;
And in each corner, cool and dim,
The music is a splendid hymn.
And, arch on arch, the ceilings high
Seem like a hand stretched toward the sky
To touch a Hand that clasped a Cross--
FOR FRANCE, NEW-RISEN FROM THE LOSS,
AND PAIN AND FEAR OF BATTLE-HELL,
KNOWS PEACE, AT LEAST, AND ALL IS WELL!