For Four Guilds: I. The Glass-Stainers
To every Man his Mystery, A trade and only one: The masons make the hives of men, The domes of grey or dun, But we have wrought in rose and gold The houses of the sun. The shipwrights build the houses high, Whose green foundations sway Alive with fish like little flames, When the wind goes out to slay. But we abide with painted sails The cyclone of the day. The weavers make the clothes of men And coats for everyone; They walk the streets like sunset clouds; But we have woven and spun In scarlet or in golden-green The gay coats of the sun. You whom the usurers and the lords With insolent liveries trod, Deep in dark church behold, above Their lance-lengths by a rod, Where we have blazed the tabard Of the trumpeter of God.
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"To every Man his Mystery,..."
"For Four Guilds: I. The Glass-Stainers" is a quintessential example of Gilbert Keith Chesterton's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...