Poems ✍️

  20.01.2026
  15


Author: Ambrose Bierce

A 'Mass' Meeting

It was a solemn rite as e’er

Was seen by mortal man.

The celebrants, the people there,

Were all Republican.

 

There Estee bent his grizzled head,

And General Dimond, too,

And one-'twas Reddick, some one said,

Though no one clearly knew.

 

I saw the priest, white-robed and tall

(Assistant, Father Stow)–

He was the pious man men call

Dan Burns of Mexico.

 

Ah, ‘twas a high and holy rite

As any one could swear.

’What does it mean?' I asked a wight

Who knelt apart in prayer.

 

‘A mass for the repose,’ he said,

'Of Colonel Markham’s’—'What,

Is gallant Colonel Markham dead?

‘Tis sad, ’tis sad, God wot!'

 

'A mass’-repeated he, and rose

To go and kneel among

The worshipers-'for the repose

Of Colonel Markham’s tongue.'



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