Explore "The Silent Brotherhood" by Annie Fellows Johnston on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
ON through the cloisters of eternity / The years, like monks, in slow procession pass, / Telling their rosary beads, the golden days, / With penance prayers of dark and dismal nights.
Hooded and cowled, with silence on they pass, / Nor will they pause until their vesper rings / A solemn curfew at the sunset hour, / When all the fires of life are buried low, / And all the worlds drop down upon their knees, / To say a last mass ere the death of Time.