The Ruined Chapel by William Allingham — Read

By the shore, a plot of ground / Clips a ruin'd chapel round, / Buttress'd with a grassy mound; / Where Day and Night and Day go by, / And bring no touch of human sound.

Washing of the lonely seas, / Shaking of the guardian trees, / Piping of the salted breeze; / Day and Night and Day go by / To the endless tune of these.

Or when, as winds and waters keep / A hush more dead than any sleep, / Still morns to stiller evenings creep, / And Day and Night and Day go by; / Here the silence is most deep.

The empty ruins, lapsed again / Into Nature's wide domain, / Sow themselves with seed and grain / As Day and Night and Day go by; / And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

Here fresh funeral tears were shed; / Now the graves are also dead; / And suckers from the ash-tree spread, / While Day and Night and Day go by; / And stars move calmly overhead.