Poetry of the Bells

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Printed in aid of the Cambridge chime, by H.O. Houghton, 1858 - 70 Seiten
 

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Seite 35 - How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells,— From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Seite 65 - RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Seite 21 - On this I ponder Where'er I wander And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, — With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Seite 24 - IN the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet's rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges.
Seite 66 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Seite 21 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, — And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame ; But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber Pealing solemnly.
Seite 23 - The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion: chiefly when Their piercing tones fall sudden on the ear Of the contemplant, solitary man, Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced to lure Forth from the walks of men, revolving oft, And oft again, hard matter, which eludes And baffles his pursuit — thought-sick and tired Of controversy, where no end appears, No clue to his research,...
Seite 34 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that over-sprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Seite 39 - In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone They are neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human...
Seite 22 - Oh! the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the River Lee.

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