Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The Court Of Penance
Behold the Court of Penance. Four gaunt walls
Shutting out all things but the upper heaven.
Stone flags for floor, where daily from their stalls
The human cattle in a circle driven
Tread down their pathway to a mire uneven,
Pale--faced, sad--eyed, and mute as funerals.
Woe to the wretch whose weakness unforgiven
Falters a moment in the track or falls!
Yet is there consolation. Overhead
The pigeons build and the loud jackdaws talk,
And once in the wind's eye, like a ship moored,
A sea--gull flew and I was comforted.
Even here the heavens declare thy glory, Lord,
And the free firmament thy handiwork.
poem
by
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black