The North Transept: The Psalms IX

Nor learned cell alone, nor sacred pile —
Made animate with sweetness, flowing o'er
The music-rolling roof, and branching aisle —
But widow'd Eld, that, in some cottage poor,
Sitteth alone by the eternal shore,
With your deep inspirations hath been young ;
Your beauteous torch hath lit Death's shadowy door,
And strengthen'd by your staff, and cheering tongue,
The failing spirit walks unfading groves among.