 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
46
DISCIPLINE
In the crypt at the foot of the stairs
They lay there, a score of the Dead:
They could hear the priest at his prayers,
And the litany overhead.
They lay there, a score of the Dead:
They could hear the priest at his prayers,
And the litany overhead.
They knew when the great crowd stirred
As the Host was lifted on high;
And they smiled in the dark when they heard
Some light-footed nun trip by.
As the Host was lifted on high;
And they smiled in the dark when they heard
Some light-footed nun trip by.
Side by side on their shelves
For years and years they lay;
And those who misbehaved themselves
Had their coffin-plates taken away.
For years and years they lay;
And those who misbehaved themselves
Had their coffin-plates taken away.
Thus is the legend told
In black-letter monkish rhyme,
Explaining those plaques of gold
That vanished from time to time!
In black-letter monkish rhyme,
Explaining those plaques of gold
That vanished from time to time!
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |