Poetry of the Bells

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Printed in aid of the Cambridge chime, by H.O. Houghton, 1858 - 70 Seiten

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Seite 65 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Seite 36 - Oh, from out the sounding cells What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells...
Seite 24 - IN the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet's rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges.
Seite 22 - But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter ! Flings o'er the Tiber Pealing solemnly. Oh ! the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Seite 39 - Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells, Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells— To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
Seite 23 - The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion: chiefly when Their piercing tones fall sudden on the ear Of the contemplant, solitary man, Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced to lure Forth from the walks of men, revolving oft, And oft again, hard matter, which eludes And baffles his pursuit — thought-sick and tired Of controversy, where no end appears, No clue to his research,...
Seite 38 - All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman, They are neither brute nor human, They are Ghouls...
Seite 67 - Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone — That tuneful peal will still ring on ; While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.
Seite 67 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Seite 70 - The time draws near the birth of Christ: The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound: Each voice four changes on the wind, That now dilate, and now decrease, Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace, Peace and goodwill, to all mankind.

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