WHENEVER the Presbyterian bell Was rung by itself, I knew it as the Presbyterian bell. But when its sound was mingled With the sound of the Methodist, the Christian, The Baptist and the Congregational, I could no longer distinguish it, Nor any one from the others, or either of them. And as many voices called to me in life Marvel not that I could not tell The true from the false, Nor even, at last, the voice that I should have known. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ITALIAN PICTURES: COSTA MAGIC by MINA LOY MATER IN EXTREMIS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WHERE MY BOOKS GO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |