Reading between the line's
a habit of mind
so look again,
out of the side of your eye,
to spy what I perceive,
and half-create,
Aye! The lonely maiden by the five-bar gate. 

Buried in her looks,
as she studies her books,
a rumble of thunder
reverberates in this clinging air
Aye! she's not there, No! she's not there.

This yew-strewn churchyard,
leaves by the side of her grave,
the implications of this dimming of the day
Aye! Jesus saves, not fade away, not fade away. .