The first tilt they together rode They put their steeds to the test; The second tilt they together rode, They proved their manhood best. The third tilt they together rode, Now lie the lords upon the plain, THE CHILDREN OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. PENTECOST, day of rejoicing, had come. The church of the village Stood gleaming white in the morning's sheen. On the spire of the belfry, Tipped with a vane of metal, the friendly flames of the Spring-sun Glanced like the tongues of fire, beheld by Apostles aforetime. Clear was the heaven and blue, and May, with her cap crowned with roses, Stood in her holiday dress in the fields, and the wind and the brooklet Murmured gladness and peace, God's-peace! With lips rosy-tinted Whispered the race of the flowers, and merry on balancing branches Birds were singing their carol, a jubilant hymn to the Highest. Swept and clean was the churchyard. Adorned like a leaf-woven arbour Stood its old-fashioned gate; and within upon each cross of iron Hung was a sweet-scented garland, new twined by the hands of affection. Even the dial, that stood on a fountain among the departed, (There full a hundred years had it stood,) was embellished with blossoms. |