For there, like France at war, I found myself,
Not standing forth in pride and glory, but on my knees in mourning,
amid ruins.
Amid the noise of falling glass and plaster.
Statues, pinnacles, bell turrets, counterforts; crockets, birds,
pillars and arches,
All all in ruins incalcinated.
Cross, candlesticks, reliquaries, masonry, swept away like wisps
of straw.
The smiling angel has only half a face,
The Chimera which climbs t meet her has been struck by a bullet
in her back,
The hands of the caryatid, amputated,
Solomons cloak is cracked the Queen of Sheba has lost her robe
and crown.
The flames have scaled the steeples spread over the roofs
O vos omnes qui transites perviam, attendete et vedete
Everywhere they are
licking the lead plates
Disclosing the bare frame forest across interlacing balconies
Like a prodigious skeleton of fire
Leaving an immense void twisted iron, indented clock wheels, broken
muted bells,
Foolish imposter doors which did not open
Hang in high galleries. Perforated the great roses intense blues,
purples,
Reds so warm and vigorous which burnished
The rays of the midday sun. The gargoyles drip heavy tears. I hear
the bells falling.
Wind is raging among the naves and corpses.