Tridentina

Do you remember the Mass,
Turretino?
Do you remember the Mass?
And the smoothing and the spreading
Of the cloth for the Wedding,
And the veil of fine fleece on the High altarpiece,
And the Wine that saved one from Hell?
And the whispers and the tears of the old friar dear,
Under the shade of the baldacchino?
Do you remember the Mass,
Turretino?
Do you remember the Mass?
And the whispers and the tears of the old friar dear,
Who hadn’t got a penny,
And who hadn’t left any,
And the crescendo of the choir and the brass?
And the clink, clank, clash
Of the glass
Of the beads to the rise and the fall
Of the girl bowed saying,
Praying,
Staying,
Begging, wrath abying,
Moving of the fingers to the sound,
Round and round,
And the ding, dang, dong of the bell?
Do you remember the Mass,
Turretino?
Do you remember the Mass?

Never more,
Turretino,
never more.
Only the weather cocks soar,
And the river Styx a torrent at the door.
No sound
On the path to the gate where waits
The Judge
Of the living and the dead with a crown.
No sound,
But the boom,
Of the divine decree of Doom.

Ben Douglass
September 3, Anno Domini MMVIII