A "MASS" MEETINGIt was a solemn rite as e'erWas seen by mortal man.The celebrants, the people there,Were all Republican.There Estee bent his grizzled head,And General Dimond, too,And one—'twas Reddick, some one said,Though no one clearly knew.I saw the priest, white-robed and tall(Assistant, Father Stow)—He was the pious man men callDan Burns of Mexico.Ah, 'twas a high and holy riteAs any one could swear."What does it mean?" I asked a wightWho knelt apart in prayer."A mass for the repose," he said,"Of Colonel Markham's"——"What,Is gallant Colonel Markham dead?'Tis sad, 'tis sad, God wot!""A mass"—repeated he, and roseTo go and kneel amongThe worshipers—"for the reposeOf Colonel Markham's tongue."
It was a solemn rite as e'erWas seen by mortal man.The celebrants, the people there,Were all Republican.There Estee bent his grizzled head,And General Dimond, too,And one—'twas Reddick, some one said,Though no one clearly knew.I saw the priest, white-robed and tall(Assistant, Father Stow)—He was the pious man men callDan Burns of Mexico.Ah, 'twas a high and holy riteAs any one could swear."What does it mean?" I asked a wightWho knelt apart in prayer."A mass for the repose," he said,"Of Colonel Markham's"——"What,Is gallant Colonel Markham dead?'Tis sad, 'tis sad, God wot!""A mass"—repeated he, and roseTo go and kneel amongThe worshipers—"for the reposeOf Colonel Markham's tongue."