The Ruined Chapel

    By the shore, a plot of ground

    Clips a ruined chapel round,

    Buttressed with a grassy mound;

      Where Day and Night and Day go by

    And bring no touch of human sound.

    Washing of the lonely seas,

    Shaking of the guardian trees,

    Piping of the salted breeze;

      Day and Night and Day go by

    To the endless tune of these.

    Or when, as winds and waters keep

    A hush more dead than any sleep,

    Still morns to stiller evenings creep,

      And Day and Night and Day go by;

    Here the silence is most deep.

    The empty ruins, lapsed again

    Into Nature's wide domain,

    Sow themselves with seed and grain

      As Day and Night and Day go by;

    And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

    Here fresh funeral tears were shed;

    Now the graves are also dead;

    And suckers from the ash-tree spread,

      While Day and Night and Day go by;

    And stars move calmly overhead.