Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BELFRY OF MONS, by WILFRID CHARLES THORLEY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BELFRY OF MONS, by                    
First Line: At mons there is a belfry tall
Last Line: They hear the trumpet sound.
Subject(s): Bells; Death; Peace; Soldiers; Spires; War; Dead, The; Steeples


WILFRED THORLEY

At Mons there is a belfry tall
That chimes from noon to noon;
At every quarter of the hour
It scatters forth a lovely shower
Of little notes that from the tower
All flutter down in tune.

At Mons from out the Market Place
The streets rise up the hill
Where ring the chimes that year by year
Cry out, "Look upward, lads, and cheer!
For God's own Kingdom now and here,
And peace and right good-will."

At Mons there lie a mort o' lads
A-row and underground,
That shall not hear the belfry ring
Nor human voice nor anything,
Until at the last summoning
They hear the trumpet sound.





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