English poem
Xiv
Then the silent cold stone warriors frowned, The pictured saints strode forward: A whirlwind swept them from holy ground; A tempest puffed them nor’ward.
Versos English George Meredith Xiv
English poem
Then the silent cold stone warriors frowned, The pictured saints strode forward: A whirlwind swept them from holy ground; A tempest puffed them nor’ward.