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234

THE HOUR OF PRAYER.

Whenever the Poet heard the hour
Chimed from the neighbouring belfry tower,
He bowed his head to pray.
Held he that some mysterious power
In words then uttered they?
Or was it this that the striking chime
Reminded him of the flight of time,
And life that ebbed away,
Or church bells ringing at matin-prime,
And noon and close of day?
He did remember some legend old,
In which were mystical virtues told
Of pray'r at chime of hour,
And thought how swiftly life's current rolled,
When spoke each antique tower.
235

And hearing hours from the belfry chime
Reminded him of the olden time,
When pious mass was sung
And bell for pray'r at each day's prime
And noon and close was rung.
Not often the Poet knelt to pray
In churches during the Sabbath day,
But while he heard the chime
Peal from the belfry, he turned alway
And gave to God the time.
Whether it was that the striking chime
Reminded him of the flight of time,
And life that ebbed away,
Or church bells ringing at matin-prime,
And noon and close of day.
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