WHENEVER the Presbyterian bell Was rung by itself, I knew it as the Presbyterian bell. But when its sound was mingled With the sound of the Methodist, the Christian, The Baptist and the Congregational, I could no longer distinguish it, Nor any one from the others, or either of them. And as many voices called to me in life Marvel not that I could not tell The true from the false, Nor even, at last, the voice that I should have known. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW LOST ILLUSIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LOVE'S TENDRILS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MAGDALEN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD FOR THE NEW YEAR by EDWIN MARKHAM |