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, someone 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 anyone 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.”