Isn't she lovely, "the Mistress"?
With her wide-apart grey-green eyes,
The droop of her lips and, when she smiles,
Her glance of amused surprise?
How nonchalantly she wears her clothes,
How expensive they are as well!
And the sound of her voice is as soft and
As the Christ Church tenor bell.
But why do I call her "the Mistress"Who know not her way of life?
Because she has more of a cared-for
Than many a legal wife.
How elegantly she swings
In the vapoury incense veil;
The angel choir must pause in
When she kneels at the altar rail.
The parson said that we shouldn't
Around when we come to church,
Or the Unknown God we are
May forever elude our search.
But I hope that the preacher will not
It unorthodox and
If I add that I glimpse in "the Mistress"A hint of the Unknown God.
