Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/442



With book, and bell, and waxen light, The mass for the dead is sung, And thorough the night in the turret's height, The great church-bells are rung. Oh wo! oh wo! for those that go From the light of life away, 'Whose limbs must rest with worms unblest, In the damp and silent clay!