All is empty and plain.
The tabernacle unadorned
and the rafters oak and all forlorn.
Oh give me the ancient churches long ago,
with their sighing organs and windy towers,
but with stained saints and adorned spires.
For here in this lonely, empty, sealed church,
I am completely desolate.
But there, though spooks and whispers,
troubled prayer, I had the plaster saints
when I was desperate.