THE church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing On the stump of a rotting old tree; "Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old, And the world is nigh ready for me." The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing, And smiled as he crumbled the tree; "Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish, And the world is too live yet for thee." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS SONNET: 35 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TO LIFE by HELEN TAPPAN BERTHOFF MANY ARE CALLED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A SWEET CONTENTION BETWEEN LOVE, HIS MISTRESS, AND BEAUTY by NICHOLAS BRETON NATURE'S REMORSES; ROME, 1861 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |