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Poem	("L'église est vaste et haute.") {IV., June 29, 1839.} The Church{1} is vast; its towering pride, its steeples loom on high; The bristling stones with leaf and flower are sculptured wondrously; The portal glows resplendent with its "rose," And 'neath the vault immense at evening swarm Figures of angel, saint, or demon's form, As oft a fearful world our dreams disclose. But not the huge Cathedral's height, nor yet its vault sublime, Nor porch, nor glass, nor streaks of light, nor shadows deep with time; Nor massy towers, that fascinate mine eyes; No, 'tis that spot—the mind's tranquillity— Chamber wherefrom the song mounts cheerily, Placed like a joyful nest well nigh the skies. Yea! glorious is the Church, I ween, but Meekness dwelleth here; Less do I love the lofty oak than mossy nest it bear; More dear is meadow breath than stormy wind: And when my mind for meditation's meant, The seaweed is preferred to the shore's extent,— The swallow to the main it leaves behind. Author of "Critical Essays." {Footnote 1: The Cathedral Nôtre Dame of Paris, which is the scene of the author's romance, "Nôtre Dame."}
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