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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Published by Susan on 08/02/2003 (4121 reads)
The chapel looms against the sky...

The chapel looms against the sky,
      Above the vine-clad shelves,
And as the peasants pass it by
      They cross themselves.
But I alone, I grieve to state,
      Lack sentiment divine:
A citified sophisticate,
      I make no sign.

Their gesture may a habit be,
      Mechanic in a sense,
Yet somehow it awakes in me
      Strange reverence.
And though from ignorance it stem,
      Somehow I deeply grieve,
And wish down in my heart like them
      I could believe.

Suppose a cottage I should buy,
      And little patch of vine,
With pure and humble spirit I
      Might make the Sign.
Aye, though I godless way I go,
      And sceptic in my trend,
A faith in something I don't know 
      Might save me in the end.

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