The Fallen Spire [A Flemish Village]
THE spire is gone, that slept for centuries,
Mirrored among the lilies, calm and low:
And now the water holds but empty skies,
Through which the rivers of the thunder flow.
The church lies broken near the fallen spire:
For here, among these old and human things,
Death sweeps along the street with feet of fire,
And goes upon his way with moaning wings.
On pavements by the kneeling herdsmen worn
The drifting fleeces of the shells are rolled
Above the Saints a village Christ forlorn,
Wounded again, looks down upon his fold.
And silence follows fast: no evening peace,
But leaden stillness, when the thunder wanes,
Haunting the slender branches of the trees,
And settling low upon the listless plains.
Herbert Asquith's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Fallen Spire [A Flemish Village] by Herbert Asquith )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Truth in Prose, Patrick van der Loos
- Mindless Muddle, alex sarich
- The Autistic Land (Sonnet), Maria Magdalena Biela
- Love is love....., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- Ode, Morgan Michaels
- Milk, Asit Kumar Sanyal
- A ROBBER'S UGLY ORDEALS, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- To meet each other, Tiku akp
- Maintain That Level Of Decorum, Ronell Warren Alman
- Hunter, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..