Poems in many lands :: :: University of Virginia Library

There were two had died one day
So they told me by the way;
“One, ah well, poor soul,” they said,
“Better off that he is dead,
Such a poor man!—but the other
He was our good prefect's brother;
Rich! And surely of great worth;—”
Both at one now—earth and earth!—
“Half the town is deep in prayer;
Round him at our Lady's there;
But the poor man's funeral
Is in the church outside the wall;
Aye, our Lady's nave is wide,
Would you lay them side by side?”
So I followed both these dead;—
Where the poor man's pall was spread,
Boarded in his box of deal,
There were only six to kneel,

And a priest that hurried through
Such quick office as would do.
Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine,
Et lux perpetua luceat ei.

Oh, but here how good to see
The great sable canopy!
All the columns shrouded o'er,
The rich curtains at the door,
And the purple velvet pall,
And the high catafalque o'er all,
Where a hundred tapers glow
On the same pale face of death below.—
All the good town's folk are there,
Some to weep and some to stare;
Little recks he how ye weep,
Very sound he lies asleep;
Little recks he how ye pray,
For his ears are sealed alway!
Many a monk to thumb his beads,
Chant his canticles and creeds;
Aye and here with quivering lips
O'er his meagre finger-tips

Prays the priest, and all the while
Drones the deep organ thrill; and then
Along the gloomy curtained aisle,
Swells the full chant again;
Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine,
Et lux perpetua luceat ei.

Now beyond the city wall
Winds his pomp of funeral;
Feebly do those tapers flare
In the sunshine's summer glare,
Loud above their chanting swells
The horror of the tolling bells,
Tapers burn where light is needed
For the living, not the dead!
Aye, and if your chants be heeded,
For the living be they said!
Where were all this folk who pray
When the poor man passed this way?

Long ago the spirit fled,
All of him that was of worth,
In his sojourning on earth;
Wherefore o'er a body dead,
Need long litanies be said?

Shall the jewelled cross he presses
In those bony hands of his,
Aught avail, when death caresses
With his equal mouldering kiss?
Shall the rosary they twined
Round and round his stiffened wrists,
Hold his body sanctified
From the worms, the socialists?
Gaudea sempiterna possideat!

So the two that died one day
Travelled down the selfsame way,
One in simple coffin board
Painted cross along it scored,
One with all his high estate
Graven on the silver plate,
All the pomp that he could save
To adorn him in the grave,
Lily wreaths of eucharis
To cover those poor bones of his,
From the graveyard's mouldy sod,—
But the poor man's soul and this
Went the same way up to God!
In Paradisum deducant te angeli,
Æternam habeas requiem!

By the sable shrouded door,
Of our Lady's church once more!
Softly came low music floating from above,
And a voice seemed to breathe its cadence through;
“Peace, peace! Lo this we did it of our love,
There was so little we could do!”
Requiem æternam dona iis, Domine,
Et lux æterna luceat iis.