Symphony In Red

Within the church

The solemn priests advance,

And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows,

Dyes a yet richer red the scarlet banners

And the scarlet robes of the young boys that bear them,

And the thoughts of one of these are far away,

With carmined lips pouting an invitation,

Are with his love; his love, like a crimson poppy

Flaunting amid prim lupins;

And his ears hear nought of the words sung from the rubricked book,

And his heart is hot as the red sun.

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