Lenten Thoughts of a High Anglican

Isn’t she lovely, ‘the Mistress’?

    With her wide-apart grey-green eyes,

The droop of her lips and, when she smiles,

    Her glance of amused surprise?

How nonchalantly she wears her clothes,

    How expensive they are as well!

And the sound of her voice is as soft and deep

    As the Christ Church tenor bell.

But why do I call her ‘the Mistress’

    Who know not her way of life?

Because she has more of a cared-for air

    Than many a legal wife.

How elegantly she swings along

    In the vapoury incense veil;

The angel choir must pause in song

    When she kneels at the altar rail.

The parson said that we shouldn’t stare

    Around when we come to church,

Or the Unknown God we are seeking

    May forever elude our search.

But I hope the preacher will not think

    It unorthodox and odd

If I add that I glimpse in ‘the Mistress’

    A hint of the Unknown God.

 

     [This is about a lady I see on Sunday mornings in a London church.]