Steady and mournfully
Along the cold and wet cobble stones
Streams of black
Stagger and hobble
With melodic farewells
Permeating into the morning mists

Before the slow creeping chariot
The bereaved march
In uniformed precision

As wailing voices rise and fall
Some shrill, some faint
Some shroud with iron sorrow

Beneath the solemn toll
Of steeples far and wide
The ominous blare of reverence
Casts away the fog
Of grief and mortality

Their radiance instills
The beauty of what was
The generous soul
That grazed each shuddering kin

The mourning clears and quiets
For tremulous minds
To reflect and recover