POETRY.
SILVESTERABEND.
Tun mists are gathering in the nave, They creep from bay to bay, Column and arch and architrave Fade in the dusk away.
The mists are gathering in the nave, The choir lights struggle dim, The year is tottering to its grave, We sing a funeral hymn.
We sing a dirige for it, We sing for me and you; We write feliciter explicit,
And turn the page anew.
The chanter chants the service out, And ere he shuts the tome, Challenges Little Faith and Doubt, To pray with Chrysostom.
From East to West, from North to South, Wherever prayers are said, This Wisdom of the Golden Mouth For epilogue is read.
Through all the years, in age, in youth, Grant us with Chrysostom, In this world knowledge of Thy truth, Life in the world to come.
J. MEADE FALENER.
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