I wrote this a few years ago after being very moved by 'The Loss of the Eurydice' (Gerard Manley Hopkins)...



How many years to Walsingham?
When comes the fullness of time when we shall clear the long grass?
When shall I see you again, gathering stars and clouds
of incense in your vaults, and us gathered all,
dry under roof, laved in the light that breaks its heart against the wall
of glass? And before rebuilt high altar sing the Mass?

For now, we lay our heads against your last grey arch,
where birds fly through the tracings of the rose bereft,
and pray God that we live until this come to pass,
or if not, that our children not forget.