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Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we read more
Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we hear,
Flatter, and but cheat our ear.
This doth put us still in mind
That our flesh must be resigned,
And, a general silence made,
The world be muffled in a shade.
[Orpheus' lute, as poets tell,
Was but moral of this bell,
And the captive soul was she,
Which they called Eurydice,
Rescued by our holy groan,
A loud echo to this tone.]
Seize the loud, vociferous fells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
Seize the loud, vociferous fells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the read more
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.
Bells call others, but themselves enter not into the Church.
Bells call others, but themselves enter not into the Church.
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells
When on the undulating air they swim!
Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells
When on the undulating air they swim!
And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all read more
And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
With sounds most musical, most melancholy.
Around, around,
Companions all, take your ground,
And name the bell with joy profound!
read more
Around, around,
Companions all, take your ground,
And name the bell with joy profound!
Concordia is the world we've found
Most meet to express the harmonious sound,
That calls to those in friendship bound.
It cometh into court and pleads the cause
Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws;
And read more
It cometh into court and pleads the cause
Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws;
And this shall make, in every Christian clime,
The bell of Atri famous for all time.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
read more
Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
That thou are crowned, not that I am dead.