In a Church of Padua

Timoleon

In vaulted place where shadows flit,An upright sombre box you see:A door, but fast, and lattice none,But punctured holes minutely smallIn lateral silver panel squareAbove a kneeling-board without,Suggest an aim if not declare.

Who bendeth here the tremulous kneeNo glimpse may get of him within,And he immured may hardly seeThe soul confessing there the sin;Nor yields the low-sieved voice a toneWhereby the murmurer may be known.

Dread diving-bell! In thee inurnedWhat hollows the priest must sound,Descending into consciencesWhere more is hid than found.