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...RHYMES OF THE DAY by GEORGE SANTAYANA I WOULD LIVE IN YOUR LOVE by SARA TEASDALE MARRIAGE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE TO AGE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFELLOWS; FLOREAT ETONA by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED |