Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHANGELING, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Toll no bell for me, dear father, dear mother
Subject(s): Fairies


Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother,
Toll no bell for me, dear Father dear Mother,
Waste no sighs;
Waste no sighs;
There are my sisters, there is my little brother
There are my sisters, there is my little brother
Who plays in the place called Paradise,
Who plays in the place called Paradise,
Your children all, your children for ever;
Your children all, your children for ever;
But I, so wild,
But I, so wild,
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,
Never, I know, but half your child!
Never, I know, but half your child!
In the garden at play, all day, last summer,

Far and away I heard

The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer,
In the garden at play, all day, last summer,
The dearest, clearest call of a bird.
Far and away I heard
It lived down there in the deep green hollow,
The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer,
My own old home, and the fairies say
The dearest, clearest call of a bird.
The word of a bird is a thing to follow,
It lived down there in the deep green hollow,
So I was away a night and a day.
My own old home, and the fairies say
One evening, too, by the nursery fire,
The word of a bird is a thing to follow,
We snuggled close and sat round so still,
So I was away a night and a day.
When suddenly as the wind blew higher,

Something scratched on the window-sill,

A pinched brown face peered in-I shivered;
One evening, too, by the nursery fire,
No one listened or seemed to see;
We snuggled close and sat round so still,
The arms of it waved and the wings of it quivered,
When suddenly as the wind blew higher,
Whoo-I knew it had come for me!
Something scratched on the window-sill,
Some are as bad as bad can be!
A pinched brown face peered in--I shivered;
All night long they danced in the rain,
No one listened or seemed to see;
Round and round in a dripping chain,
The arms of it waved and the wings of it quivered,
Threw their caps at the window-pane,
Whoo--I knew it had come for me!
Tried to make me scream and shout
Some are as bad as bad can be!
And fling the bedclothes all about:
All night long they danced in the rain,
I meant to stay in bed that night,
Round and round in a dripping chain,
And if only you had left a light
Threw their caps at the window-pane,
They would never have got me out!
Tried to make me scream and shout
Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see,
And fling the bedclothes all about:
Or answer when you spoke to me,
I meant to stay in bed that night,
Because in the long, still dusks of Spring
And if only you had left a light
You can hear the whole world whispering;
They would never have got me out!
The shy green grasses making love,

The feathers grow on the dear grey dove,

The tiny heart of the redstart beat,
Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see,
The patter of the squirrel's feet,
Or answer when you spoke to me,

Because in the long, still dusks of Spring

You can hear the whole world whispering;
The pebbles pushing in the silver streams,
The shy green grasses making love,
The rushes talking in their dreams,
The feathers grow on the dear grey dove,
The swish-swish of the bat's black wings,
The tiny heart of the redstart beat,
The wild-wood bluebell's sweet ting-tings,
The patter of the squirrel's feet,
Humming and hammering at your ear,
The pebbles pushing in the silver streams,
Everything there is to hear
The rushes talking in their dreams,
In the heart of hidden things.
The swish-swish of the bat's black wings,
But not in the midst of the nursery riot,
The wild-wood bluebell's sweet ting-tings,
That's why I wanted to be quiet,
Humming and hammering at your ear,
Couldn't do my sums, or sing,
Everything there is to hear
Or settle down to anything.
In the heart of hidden things.
And when, for that, I was sent upstairs
But not in the midst of the nursery riot,
I did kneel down to say my prayers;
That's why I wanted to be quiet,
But the King who sits on your high church steeple
Couldn't do my sums, or sing,
Has nothing to do with us fairy people!
Or settle down to anything.
'Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother,
And when, for that, I was sent upstairs
Learned all my lessons and liked to play,
I did kneel down to say my prayers;
And dearly I loved the little pale brother
But the King who sits on your high church steeple
Whom some other bird must have called away.
Has nothing to do with us fairy people!
Why did they bring me here to make me

Not quite bad and not quite good,

Why, unless They're wicked, do They want, in spite, to take me
'Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother,
Back to Their wet, wild wood?
Learned all my lessons and liked to play,
Now, every night I shall see the windows shining,
And dearly I loved the little pale brother
The gold lamp's glow, and the fire's red gleam,
Whom some other bird must have called away.
While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest of us are whining
Why did they bring me here to make me
In the hollow by the stream.
Not quite bad and not quite good,
Black and chill are Their nights on the wold;
Why, unless They're wicked, do They want, in spite,
And They live so long and They feel no pain:
to take me
I shall grow up, but never grow old,
Back to Their wet, wild wood?
I shall always, always be very cold,
Now, every nithing I shall see the windows shining,
I shall never come back again!
The gold lamp's glow, and the fire's red gleam,

While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest of us

are whining
In the hollow by the stream.
Black and chill are Their nights on the wold;
And They live so long and They feel no pain:
I shall grow up, but never grow old,
I shall always, always be very cold,
I shall never come back again!






Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net