Fell to thinking I. And woke up.

Rang out belfry’s toll!

Tapered, smoke-dimmed icons—churchward

Beckons pealing, dole.

Tardy, tardy—church is empty.

Lastly tolls the bell.

Yearnful heart impatient, sorry

Heartful groan so fell.

Much too late. It’s snuffed, the candle.

Here—the only one.

Not remembering church is joy-filled,

Sad, returning, son.

How I want to turn the clock back,

Down on knees I fall!

God, O God! Your tabernacle

Holds me in its thrall!

Questing, I am now imprisoned.

Spectres o’er me flap—

Threatening, threatening, lure-enticing,

Spider’s silky trap!

Much too late. In darkened hell-hole

Blind, condemned to rot …

Yet, regretful, dallying light’s call—

Strengthless, take my lot.