Page:Satanella (1932).pdf/43



Booming drums and blaring trumpets,

Ringing bells on every tower,

Sacred songs each throat is chanting

Till with all this sound and bustle,

Seems to quake the very island.

Constantly the throng is growing

While a glorious procession

'cross the bridge is slowly winding.

Booming drums and blaring trumpets,

All abounds in festive glory,

Yes, the very sun from heaven

Pours a stream of gold abundance

On the crosiers, ensigns, crosses,

On the mitres and chasubles.

On each side of this procession

Rows of bald-pate monks are flanking.

In the center, walking slowly,

Prettiest of city's daughters

Bear a picture of Madonna.

Through the incense' smoky columns

Barely penetrates the sunshine,

Barely o'er the clanging church bells

Heard monks' psalms and songs of people.