Toll, bell, toll. For hope is flying Sighing from the earthbound soul: Life is sighing, life is dying: Toll, bell, toll. Gropes in its own grave the mole Wedding darkness, undescrying, Tending to no different goal. Self-slain soul, in vain thy sighing: Self-slain, who should make thee whole? Vain the clamour of thy crying: Toll, bell, toll. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN FRAGMENTS OF A LOST GNOSTIC POEM OF THE 12TH CENTURY by HERMAN MELVILLE ON THE SLAIN COLLEGIANS by HERMAN MELVILLE DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES DIRGE FOR A YOUNG MAIDEN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES RAINY SEASON by HARRIET GRAY BLACKWELL |