Lay (excerpt)

THE moonlight over Radcliffe Square,
Small sunset spires that drowse and dream,
Thin bells that ring to evening prayer.
Red willow-roots along the stream,
And perilous grey streets, that teem
With light feet wandering unaware.
And winter nights with lamps agleam,
Globed golden in the violet air ;
Odd nightmare carven things, that stare
Spell-stricken in a voiceless scream ;
The worn steps of an ancient stair,
With oaken balustrade and beam —
Such things are weightier than they seem :
These marks my branded soul must bear.
Pledges that Time cannot redeem.

And yet God knows if I shall care !

Dorothy L. Sayers ~ Oxford Poetry (1915) Blackwell