---

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXIII
Work rating: Low

Voltaire and Rousseau, these were thy twin priests,
 Proud Mother Nature, on thy opening day.
 The first with bitter gibes perplexed the feasts
 Of thy high rival, and prepared the way;
 The other built thy shrine. `Twas here, men say,
 De Warens lived, whose pleasure was the text
 Of the new gospel of the sons of clay,
 The latest born of time, by faith unvexed.
 Here for a century with reverent feet
 Pilgrims, oppressed with barrenness of soul,
 Toiled in their tears as to a Paraclete.
 On these white hills they heard Earth`s thunders roll
 In sneers outpreaching the lost voice of God,
 And shouted ``Ichabod, ay, Ichabod!``
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.