“Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang” -Shakespeare
The air is thurified – the incense given Our Lord upon His birth is fumed at last; The censer’s chains, clanking like manacles Offend against the silence at the end of Mass
Supper is concluded; the servants strip The Table bare of all the Seder service: Cups, linens, and dishes, leaving in the dark An Altar bare, prepared for sacrifice
In Gethsemane the flowered air is sweet But iron-heeled caligae offend the night