BELLS would be good if they could keep their place Inside of churches, there for those who kneel A-praying; where, with delicate altar-lace And musty fragrance, bells may lend a grace To worship that the dullest man can feel. But here outside, where all the hills are green, And every apple tree is snowing petals, Hiding her shadow till it can't be seen, Bird-songs are better. There's no room between Their trills, for the long sound of clanging metals. Eerie along the air the clear notes come, Shaken in summons from a far-off tower; But I'm more lured by every bee's light hum; And how I wish that all the bells were dumb That break the deep enchantment of this hour! |