IN THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE
In The the mellow cathedral English close sunlightthat afternoonfell just so Across the step, and pausing to admire The chevroned arch and iron-bound oaken door, I saw instead the hollow in that stone, As if the block had melted in the warmth; Or carved crusader, risen from his slab, Had strolled once more upon the grass, and made That awkward place his pillow for a snooze. Approaching, I observed how smooth the dip — Dark burnished blue, a bruise on honeyed stone — Where pilgrims’ feet had crossed the threshold wide. And I then placed my foot upon the step And laid my hand upon the oaken door And took my place among the throng within As Dunstan did a thousand years before.