26 December 2013
On Boxing Day, we went out to Roslin, to see Rosslyn Chapel. I always find it funny that there are two versions of the word with different spellings. Strange.
It’s a beautiful place. The glen especially, and the chapel’s outside walls:
No wonder it was a setting in the da Vinci Code. No wonder it was noticed long before then…
Composed in Roslin Chapel During a Storm
The wind is not thy organist; — a clank
(We know not whence) ministers for a bell
To mark some change of service. As the swell
Of music reached its height, and even when sank
The notes, in prelude, ROSLIN! to a blank
Of silence, how it thrilled thy sumptuous roof,
Pillers, and arches, — not in vain time-proof,
Though Christian rites be wanting! From what bank
Came those live herbs? by what hand were they sown
Where dew falls not, where rain-drops seem unknown?
Yet in the Temple they a friendly niche
Share with their sculptured fellows, that, green-grown,
Copy their beauty more and more, and preach,
Though mute, of all things blending into one.
I’m so sorry I’ve been losing track of all of the days. I will have to catch them up tomorrow. I hope you’re having a wonderful time, and I miss you.