RING your sweet bells; but let them be farewells To the green-vista'd gladness of the past That changed us into soldiers; swing your bells To a joyful chime; but let it be the last. What means this metal in windy belfries hung When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue Let them cry doom and storm the sun with shells. Bells are like fierce-browed prelates who proclaim That 'if our Lord returned He'd fight for us.' So let our bells and bishops do the same, Shoulder to shoulder with the motor-bus. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS SON, VINCENT CORBET, ON HIS THIRD BIRTHDAY by RICHARD CORBET FOR AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN (BY ANDREA MANTEGNA) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PROLOGUE TO THE PLAY OF HENRY THE EIGHTH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 9 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |