Classic Poem

A maiden of the countryside
Is mourning since her mother died;
She grieves all night and all the day;
The good priest knows not what to say.

As she is at the tomb praying,
She hears the bells of midnight ring;
She hears the bells of midnight ring,
The hour when spirits are walking.
They walk in groups of three that night,
The black, the gray, and then the white.
Among the black the mother goes.
O God! what fear the daughter knows!

The next night she is come again
To pray God for the soul in pain:
As she is at the tomb praying,
She hears the bells of midnight ring;
She hears the bells of midnight ring,
The hour when spirits are walking.
And in three groups they walk that night,
The black, the gray, and then the white.
Among the gray the mother goes,
And less of fear the daughter knows.

The next night she is come again
To pray God for the soul in pain;
As she kneels on the grave praying,
She hears the bells of midnight ring;
She hears the bells of midnight ring,
The hour when spirits are walking.
And in three groups they walk that night,
The black, the gray, and then the white.
Among the white the mother goes,
And no more fear the daughter knows.

She took the apron that she wore
And tore it into pieces four.
Then to the girl the mother cried:
“Had God's grace not been on thy side,
Thou had'st been into pieces torn
Even like the apron thou hast worn.
Thou hast named for me thy newly-born
Godchild, in church, and that was well;
The child has saved my soul from Hell.”