RING the bells, nor ring them slowly; Toll them not, -- the day is holy! Golden-flooded noon is poured In grand libation to the Lord. No mourning mothers come to-day Whose hopeless eyes forget to pray: They each hold high the o'erflowing urn, And bravely to the altar turn. Ye limners of the ancient saint! To-day another virgin paint; Where with the lily once she stood Show now the new beatitude. To-day a mother crowned with pain, Of silver beauty beyond stain, Clasping a flower for our land A-sheathed in her hand. Each pointed leaf with sword-like strength, Guarding the flower throughout its length; Each sword has won a sweet release To the flower of beauty and of peace. Ring the bells, nor ring them slowly, To the Lord the day is holy; To the young dead we consecrate These lives that now we dedicate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIGHT TO DIE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ANNIE WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860 by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 1. LORD CRASHTON by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TO MR. BOWRING ON HIS POETICAL TRANSLATIONS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD KNOWLEDGE AFTER DEATH by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING THE DAWNING O' THE YEAR by MARY (MAY) ELIZABETH (MCGRATH) BLAKE |