The Quiet Rural Church

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It was a humble church, with arches low,
  The church we entered there,
Where many a weary soul since long ago
  Had past with plaint or prayer.

Mournful and still it was at day's decline,
  The day we entered there;
As in a loveless heart, at the lone shrine,
  The fires extinguished were.

Scarcely was heard to float some gentlest sound,
  Scarcely some low breathed word,
As in a forest fallen asleep, is found
  Just one belated bird.

© Victor Marie Hugo