These Windows Don't Pump Sunlight

These windows don’t pump sunlight –  
golden noon stays in their stains;
they leave their colors untied.
 
They must have felt the drum’s might
shake them in the windowpane –  
these windows don’t pump sunlight.  
 
The sermon, too, had rung bright,
but was flushed in rainbow waves:
they leave their colors untied.
 
All their hues are sun-dried
in the dust where colors play;
these windows don’t pump sunlight.
 
They breathe it in on one side
but are truer for the way
they leave their colors untied.
 
These pews are full of stunned eyes,
faces safe in brave, bright shades.
These windows don’t pump sunlight:
they leave their colors untied.
 
 
~
(my first, quick attempt at a villanelle for extra credit in English.)