Standing In The Church Yard At St. Moritz Poem by William Reed O'Connor

Within these grave walls stands a tower
Of most ancient and undiminished virtue
Its aspect commonplace being four sides square
From fluted buttress upon hallowed ground
To steepled belfry in not so tamed sky
Its only empathy an inclination
Obstinate to its fellows

At the foot resides a recessed portal
Which its maker with no great care did place
Skewed and unsymmetrical into the tower's wall
Though to it leads a single set of treads
Separated by some undefined curiosity
To stop, hesitate and then with timid conviction step
Leaving the path of a hundred other feet stamped into the gloaming snow
Feet which would not notice or were too afraid

The stranger stands resolute and knocks upon the door
Breath burning, hands embracing between each sharp rap
Once more the stranger taps, looks up and cries to an empty belfry
An eternity of courage yielding a hoarse "hello"
They hear, nothing, no welcome reply
So turn and shoulders slumped
Trudge, hands seeking lodging, across the stiff white cloister
Behind, the thoughts of fey watchers flicker
But when the stranger, with eyes half fearful glances back, there is nothing