158
canticle de profundis.
Tolling, tolling, tolling!
See, they come as a cloud,—
Hearts of a mighty people,
Bearing his pall and shroud!
Lifting up, like a banner,
Signals of loss and woe!
Wonder of breathless nations,
Moveth the solemn show.
See, they come as a cloud,—
Hearts of a mighty people,
Bearing his pall and shroud!
Lifting up, like a banner,
Signals of loss and woe!
Wonder of breathless nations,
Moveth the solemn show.
Tolling, tolling, tolling!
Was it, O man beloved,—
Was it thy funeral only,
Over the land that moved?—
Veiled by that hour of anguish,
Borne with the Rebel rout,
Forth into utter darkness,
Slavery's corse went out.
Was it, O man beloved,—
Was it thy funeral only,
Over the land that moved?—
Veiled by that hour of anguish,
Borne with the Rebel rout,
Forth into utter darkness,
Slavery's corse went out.
