The Abbey in the Oakwood

'The Abbey in the Oakwood', painted between 1809 and 1810 in Dresden, by German artist, Caspar David Friedrich (1774-1840). Recently seen on Facebook, I used it as the inspiration for this poem.

The Abbey in the Oakwood

The monks have left, long, long ago:
Just ruins left, where once it was so
Full of plainsong; chanting in the day,
And night, from dawn to dusk, they pray;
At Matins, Lauds, Prime, and Terce,
Sext, Nones, Vespers pray for mercy;
Vespers as sunset creeping over hill,
Compline, end of day, all is still;
But the Reformers came, an end
To many years, and monks wend
Out far beyond cloistered walls,
And the monastery finally falls;
All the masses and priests fled:
Night is a thief of stone and lead;
And only ruins remain, stones left,
Weeping, unhappy, all so bereft;
An abbey fallen, only shadows last,
Where monks at refectory broke fast,
Laboured over pen and ink on book:
Now, just the cawing of the rook,
Settling on an ancient ruined arch:
An Abbey eaten away in time’s march;
Leafless branches gather round,
Amidst this once so sacred ground;
And yet, sometimes, I can still hear
The chanting of monastic prayer,
Soft footsteps upon paved floor,
And a creaking opening of a door;
Echoes of what was, once time alive,
Where long dead memories shrive;
And dusk rising, rain falls like tears,
Washing away all nightly fears.