In idle dream with pipe in hand I looked across the Square, And saw the little chapel stand In eloquent despair. A ruin of the War it was, A dreary, dingy mess: It worried me a lot because My hobby`s happiness. The shabby Priest said: `You are kind. Time leaves us on the lurch, And there are very few who mind Their duty to the Church. But with this precious sum you give, I`ll make it like a gem; Poor folks will come, our altar live To comfort them.` So now my chapel of despair Is full of joy and song; I watch the humble go to prayer Although I don`t belong. An artist and agnostic I Possess but little pelf; But oh what blessings it can buy Them—and myself!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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