01.07.2007, 10:58
A Winter Scene
"Chacun pourtant conservera son culte" (de Beranger)
It is the winter, sharp and suddenly
His angel frost hath breathed upon the land:
Tartuffe now at the chancel door doth stand
Dispensing loaves from others' charity,
And round about him come a hungry band
With piteous voice and asking eyes, but he
A little backward sheltered from the wind,
A book turns over, for the Church must be
Maintained, and therein all who are behind
With Easter dues are writ; it is poverty
Moves them, but duty stern his reverence;
The loaves were given the Church, with pious mind,
And justly they by wanting must be fined,
Although it grieves him, till they pay their pence.
"Chacun pourtant conservera son culte" (de Beranger)
It is the winter, sharp and suddenly
His angel frost hath breathed upon the land:
Tartuffe now at the chancel door doth stand
Dispensing loaves from others' charity,
And round about him come a hungry band
With piteous voice and asking eyes, but he
A little backward sheltered from the wind,
A book turns over, for the Church must be
Maintained, and therein all who are behind
With Easter dues are writ; it is poverty
Moves them, but duty stern his reverence;
The loaves were given the Church, with pious mind,
And justly they by wanting must be fined,
Although it grieves him, till they pay their pence.