At the sound of bells the weeping ceased,
The heart of the thousand stilled its moan,
The name of God was uttered aloud
With the bells' sad tone.
And the gleaming crosses pointing up,
Like the gold of crowns that princes wear,
Seemed in the gray of the changeless sky
As signs of prayer.
And the women's eyes were wet with tears,
Their desolate souls were wrung with pain,