Cloister Sketches (III), Poem by Emile Verhaeren

Poem by Emile Verhaeren Period 19th century

In autumn, in the softness of the pale months,
When the afternoon hours weave their meshes,
In the vestry, where the monks, in white surplices,
Return to undress before going to the sowing,

The cowls are left hanging in neglect. Their folds
Solemnly straight descend from the walls,
Like organ pipes and bundles of lilies,
And the last suns stain them with medals.

They shine thus beneath the splendor of the day,
The cloth penetrated with gold, with incense and heavy pride,
But when the diurnal light dies out in the distance,

Mystically, in the darkness of the nights,
They fall, along the boxwood pegs,
Like a collapse of ardor and of prayer.

Emile Verhaeren

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