Calvinistic Evensong

The six bells stopped, and in the dark I heard

Cold silence wait the Calvinistic word;

For Calvin now the soft oil lamps are lit

Hands on their hymnals six old women sit.

Black gowned and sinister, he now appears

Curate-in-charge of aged parish fears.

Let, unaccompanied, that psalm begin

Which deals most harshly with the fruits of sin!

Boy! pump the organ! let the anthem flow

With promise for the chosen saints below!

Pregnant with warning the globed elm trees wait

Fresh coffin-wood beside the churchyard gate.

And that mauve hat three cherries decorate

Next week shall topple from its trembling perch

While wet fields reek like some long empty church.