There was a great cathedral.
To solemn songs,
A white procession
Moved toward the altar.
The chief man there
Was erect, and bore himself proudly.
Yet some could see him cringe,
As in a place of danger,
Throwing frightened glances into the air,
A-start at threatening faces of the past.

Stephen Crane,
1905

The Black Riders and Other Lines: LXII || The Black Riders and Other Lines: LXIV