The dry crisp air of a late December day

Carried clearly the peal of the ancient bells

in a most meloncholy way

A Sort of summons to the faithful

to come at once and pray

A clarion call from the house of God,

that the faithful must obey.

Yet those ringing tones of those ancient bells

as they resounded around the square

Carried a different message to my ear,

it was a message of despair,

For it was on such a day whilst song birds

did sing up in the sky

That I sat at my wife's bedside

and watched that lady die.

Those bells just kept on ringing,

whilst her life did drain away,

I just sat there, and I listened,

whilst those mournful bells did play.

Harbingers of disater

that was being enacted within that room

With curtains drawn and a heavy heart,

I just sat there in the gloom.

I had prayed as did the faithful,

for the miracle of life

To be bestowed upon that darling girl,

a lady, and my wife,

But those bells just kept on ringing,

I know now for whom they did toll

For hidden in those rhythmic chimes

was one who reclaimed her soul.

Her term on earth had ended,

she had returned into the fold

Whilst I remained here amidst those bells,

feeling lonely and so old.

Why do I listen to those bells,

that discordant cacophony?

I listen for the chilling chimes

that will unite my love, and me.

 

 

 

The Bells