Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1831.pdf/12

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days are gone when pilgrims knelt By sacred spot or shrine; The cells where saints have lived or died No more are held divine:

The bough of palm, the scallop-shell, Are signs of faith no more; The common grave is holy held, As that on Salem's shore.

Yet, when I knew that human knee Had worn the rock away, And that here, even at my feet, Earth hid the righteous clay;

I felt this was no common spot For any common thought— The place's own calm sanctity Within my spirit wrought.

The cave was dark and damp—it spoke Of penance and of prayer: Remorse that scarcely dared to hope, And heavy grief, were there.

But at the entrance was a scene, Which seemed expressly given To bring the heart again to earth, Yet win it back to heaven.

For so benign an influence Was falling from the sky, And, like a blessing on the land, The sunshine seemed to lie.