Thick walls of limestone rise to meet the sky,
With rounded arches, quiet, stern, and deep,
Where shadows in the nave their vigil keep,
And vaulted roofs in solemn silence fly.
The wisdom held within will never die;
The sanctuary offers pilgrims sleep,
While heavy columns promise faith to reap,
And narrow windows catch the light on high.
Yet in this calm, a silent presence dwells,
Defying time with mortar, rock, and might,
And carving saints in stone with careful hand.
Melodic sounds of ancient copper bells
Are stubborn beacons in the waning light,
Hung high above a list'ning sacred land.