A Smiling Demon of Notre Dame

Quiet as are the quiet skies He watches where the city lies Floating in vision clear or dim Through sun or rain beneath his eyes; Her songs, her laughter, and her cries Hour after hour drift up to him. Her days of glory or disgrace He watches with unchanging face; He knows what midnight crimes are done, What horrors under summer sun; And souls that pass in holy death Sweep by him on the morning’s breath. Alike to holiness and sin He feels nor alien nor akin; Five hundred creeping mortal years He smiles on human joy and tears, Man-made, immortal, scorning man; Serene, grotesque Olympian.

Collection: 
English
Sophie Jewett

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