The Figure in the Crypt
In this crypt a leaden figure
stands rooted in the crystal water;
motionless in frozen rigour.
Summer tourists startled, shiver.
Stricken mute they stop and honour;
thoughtful souls become transfigured.
The vaulted roof contains our wonder;
whispered from the water’s border
we hear our thoughts as wordless thunder.
Was it king or priest or unknown sinner
whose secret reasons strove to author
encrypted secrets in this figure?
And is this statue slave or brother
carrying out our silent orders
deep within the vaulting pillars?
Or was it God that made this watcher
and set him in the cool groundwater?
Inside the crypt a leaden figure
stands guard for us in frozen rigour.