Poetry Archives

Ring out, oh, ye bells, in soft measured chime,
Sweet melodies breathe in rythmetric rhyme,
The murmuring winds bring song from afar,
For one we have loved is crossing the bar.

Ring gently, ye bells, the soul on its way,
Would not be disturbed by discordant lay;
In peace it would stem the river that flows
O’er rocks crimsoned by humanity’s woes.

Ring slowly, Oh, bells, death’s pitiless dream
Rolls eagerly on, a maddening stream;
The sufferer sighs for a haven of rest.
And longs to be borne to homes for the blest.

Ring thoughtfully, bells, a prayer would ascend
To Father of love, this soul to befriend.
While waiting, a voice is waft o’er the sea—
“Hast heard of a Christ? He speaks—I am He.”

Ring peacefully, bells, the wanderer soothe,
In lullaby song, as in cradle of youth;
No whispering doubts, no question of whence,
Outpouring to mar, of love calling hence.

Ring joyfully, bells, no tempests now toss—
The Valley of Death is lit by a Cross.
Ring glad happy strains of love’s richest song,
Our dear one has fled with a heavenly throng.