AN INTERDICT

By William Wordsworth

Realms quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace,

The Church, by mandate shadowing forth the power

She arrogates o'er heaven's eternal door,

Closes the gates of every sacred place.

Straight from the sun and tainted air's embrace

All sacred things are covered: cheerful morn

Grows sad as night — no seemly garb is worn,

Nor is a face allowed to meet a face

With natural smilesof greeting. Bells are dumb;

Ditches are graves — funereal rites denied;

And in the church-yard he must take his bride

Who dares be wedded! Fancies thickly come

Into the pensive heart ill fortified,

And comfortless despairs the soul benumb.