With tapers tall of perfumed wax of costliness untold.
A young subdeacon slowly marched these acolytes between;
A massive silver cross he bore aloft with reverent mien.
Then, two and two, came choristers in linen fair and white;
The younger first, in order due, each holding to the light
His psalter, silver-clasped, and all in vellum richly bound.
Here David gazed intently, and, so gazing, quickly found
His little friend, the chorister, who walked with steady pace,
Whose silvery voice in ringing tones filled all the holy place.
The bishop then with lordly train walked last of all the band,