“Towards its chorded closing bar
Plaintively, thinly, waned the hymn,
Yet lingered, like the notes afar
Of banded seraphim.
XVII
“With brows abashed, and reverent tread,
The hearkeners sought the tavern door:
But nothing, save wan moonlight, spread
The empty highway o’er.
XVIII
“While on their hearing fixed and tense
The aerial music seemed to sink,
As it were gently moving thence
Along the river brink.
XIX
“Then did the Quick pursue the Dead
By crystal Froom that crinkles there;
And still the viewless quire ahead
Voiced the old holy air.
“By Bank-walk wicket, brightly bleached,
It passed, and ’twixt the hedges twain,
Dogged by the living; till it reached
The bottom of Church Lane.