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Castles built in cities dire,
Housing hearts without the fire.
Steeples’ bells which once aroused,
Now shout work! And grace is doused.
Its spirit weeps, an abandoned bride,
Love songs sung have slowly died.
And my spirit sinks into an endless song,
Mourn, mourn, my soul, His church foregone.
She struggles on to hear the preacher.
Deaf he is to the real Teacher.