Ye paltry petty tocsins of the town, Keep silence for the pealing of St. Paul's; He is your King, and on this day he calls With King's transcendent utterance, bidding drown Your party tongues in his wide belt of sound: Which music best To other sense expresst Blooms like a band of interwoven flowers Knit by the Graces or the circling Hours Or beams like Pharos lighting waters round. Ye puny chimes, that would your voice declare, Keep silence for the music of St. Paul's; 'Tis on this day that he his loudest calls, Filling all regions of the wintry air; Ye have your days, when men less well agreed, And proudly various With parted steps contrarious, Betake themselves whither they each would go, To shrines that differ in their outward show With different pomp that fits each wilful creed. But on this day—nor is there day like this— Keep silence for the thunder of St. Paul's, Muffle your clamour, or with awestruck walls Be this day dumb, and rapt in listening bliss Hear and revere, nor wish his right denied: While he erect Above the strife of sect Rings o'er all London his superior strain, Like trump of Oreb heard on earth again, Heard not in dread, but joy of Christmastide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF THE STYGIAN NAIADES by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE TEMPEST: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING ARCADIA: SESTINA by PHILIP SIDNEY DRINKING SONG (4) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE ENIGMA. TO THE LADIES by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF HIS AUNT, ELIZABETH SKRYMSHER by RICHARD BARNFIELD |