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Show A SOLUMN MASS<br><br> by H. W. Longfellow<br><br> Through woods and mountain passes The winds like anthems roll; They are chanting solemn masses, singing "Pray for this poor soul- Pray! Pray!"<br><br> And the loaded clouds like friars Tell their beads in drops of rain, And patter their doleful prayers, but their prayers are all in vain- All in vain!<br><br> And then the old year dieth And the forests utter a moan, Like the voice of one who crieth In the wilderness alone, "Vex not his ghost!"<br><br> Then comes with an awful roar, Gathering and sounding on The storm-wind from Labrador, The wind Eurodydon- The storm wind!<br><br> Howl! Howl! And from the forest Sweep the red leaves away! Would the sin that thou abhorrest, O soul! could thus decay, And be swept away!<br><br> For there shall come amightier blast There shall be a darker day; And the stars from heaven down cast Like red leaves be swept away! Kyrie eleison! Christo eleison! |
