Lines 2-11: “letting the door thud shut.Lines 52-54: “For, though I've no idea / What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth, / It pleases me to stand in silence here ”.Back at the door / I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence, / Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.” Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few / Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce / "Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant. From where I stand, the roof looks almost new- / Cleaned, or restored? Someone would know: I don't. Hatless, I take off / My cycle-clips in awkward reverence, / Move forward, run my hand around the font. Another church: matting, seats, and stone, / And little books sprawlings of flowers, cut / For Sunday, brownish now some brass and stuff / Up at the holy end the small neat organ / And a tense, musty, unignorable silence, / Brewed God knows how long. Lines 1-18: “Once I am sure there's nothing going on / I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
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