 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
303
A VILLAGE LAY.
Sixteen to-day, just sweet sixteen,
She moves along with step of queen
The sunshine clasps in warm embrace
Her youthful form, and radiant face.
Pure her cheek, as the snow-wreath fair,
Like ruddy gold her curling hair.
Then ring, oh bells, oh strong and clear,
Chime out your music on the ear;
Sweetly, oh sweetly let it flow,
From your turret tower to men below.
She moves along with step of queen
The sunshine clasps in warm embrace
Her youthful form, and radiant face.
Pure her cheek, as the snow-wreath fair,
Like ruddy gold her curling hair.
Then ring, oh bells, oh strong and clear,
Chime out your music on the ear;
Sweetly, oh sweetly let it flow,
From your turret tower to men below.
See! she comes up the garden way,
Fresh as the dawn of an April day,
Clad in a kirtle green, like spring,
She with her scent of flowers doth bring.
Her child-eyes, full of sweet content,
Look on the world in wonderment.
O ring out, bells! oh clear and strong,
And as ye swing the notes prolong:
Tell out, tell out, to all who hear,
The birthday 'tis of one so dear.
Fresh as the dawn of an April day,
Clad in a kirtle green, like spring,
She with her scent of flowers doth bring.
Her child-eyes, full of sweet content,
Look on the world in wonderment.
304
And as ye swing the notes prolong:
Tell out, tell out, to all who hear,
The birthday 'tis of one so dear.
Glad parents of such maiden sweet!
Proud ground that feels the little feet!
Rich gems that glisten on her breast!
Oh happy rose, to her bosom prest!
She moves among the lilies tall,
Herself the fairest lily of all.
Ring out, oh bells, oh loudly ring:
Out on the breeze your rich strains fling,
And swell until the silver sound
Is wafted all the country round!
Proud ground that feels the little feet!
Rich gems that glisten on her breast!
Oh happy rose, to her bosom prest!
She moves among the lilies tall,
Herself the fairest lily of all.
Ring out, oh bells, oh loudly ring:
Out on the breeze your rich strains fling,
And swell until the silver sound
Is wafted all the country round!
Two summers have flown quickly by,
The flowers bloom, the flowers die;
Two winters clothe the earth with snows,
But lightly touch our sweetest rose.
They bear to her the crown of life,
Betrothèd maid—then happy wife.
Ring out, oh bells! ring out your chime,
Glad tidings give of this golden time;
Oh ring and swing from your turrets high,
And bless the ears of the passers-by!
The flowers bloom, the flowers die;
Two winters clothe the earth with snows,
But lightly touch our sweetest rose.
They bear to her the crown of life,
Betrothèd maid—then happy wife.
Ring out, oh bells! ring out your chime,
Glad tidings give of this golden time;
Oh ring and swing from your turrets high,
And bless the ears of the passers-by!
305
She cometh up the alleys green,
With drooping head and modest mien;
Her bridesmaids follow close behind,
'Neath veils just stirred by the whispering wind.
Now she has reached the carvèd porch,
And now has entered holy church.
Ring, ring, oh bells! but soft and low,
And let your music sweetly flow;
Floating along the charmèd air,
As suits the hour of holy prayer.
With drooping head and modest mien;
Her bridesmaids follow close behind,
'Neath veils just stirred by the whispering wind.
Now she has reached the carvèd porch,
And now has entered holy church.
Ring, ring, oh bells! but soft and low,
And let your music sweetly flow;
Floating along the charmèd air,
As suits the hour of holy prayer.
And now she kneels a happy bride,
The bridegroom kneeling at her side;
And prayers ascend to God above,
For peace, and joy, and truth, and love;
And o'er each bowed and reverent head
The prayer is made, the blessing said.
Ring out, ring out! again, again!
Ring out, oh bells, a joyful strain!
Another peal, to swell and die
In notes of sweetest harmony!
The bridegroom kneeling at her side;
And prayers ascend to God above,
For peace, and joy, and truth, and love;
And o'er each bowed and reverent head
The prayer is made, the blessing said.
Ring out, ring out! again, again!
Ring out, oh bells, a joyful strain!
Another peal, to swell and die
In notes of sweetest harmony!
Plighted the troth, the ring is given,
And one they are in sight of Heaven.
Slowly they leave the house of prayer,
Both so young, and one so fair;
And people bless them as they tread
By grassy graves of the sainted dead.
Then ring, oh bells! oh, sweeter still;
And as ye all the silence fill,
Give promise rich of the coming time—
Sound out, sound out, a full-voiced chime!
And one they are in sight of Heaven.
Slowly they leave the house of prayer,
Both so young, and one so fair;
And people bless them as they tread
By grassy graves of the sainted dead.
306
And as ye all the silence fill,
Give promise rich of the coming time—
Sound out, sound out, a full-voiced chime!
Their home is lighted from above
With trustful faith, and fervent love,
And happy hope, and deep content,
And pleasures sweet and innocent.
And children come—a girl and boy—
To fill their brimming cup with joy.
Ring on, oh bells, ring as of yore!
But still more joyful than before;
Tell of bright hours and cloudless days,
Of peace and prayer and grateful praise.
With trustful faith, and fervent love,
And happy hope, and deep content,
And pleasures sweet and innocent.
And children come—a girl and boy—
To fill their brimming cup with joy.
Ring on, oh bells, ring as of yore!
But still more joyful than before;
Tell of bright hours and cloudless days,
Of peace and prayer and grateful praise.
Oh happy time! oh pleasant years!
So full of smiles, so scant of tears!
Alas! that life's full harmony
Should pass into the minor key,
And death turn passion into pain,
And prayer be fruitless, love be vain;
Ring, then, ye chimes, but soft and low—
Solemn and sad, toll out our woe.
Oh ring a muffled, deep-toned knell,
The mournful peal of passing bell!
So full of smiles, so scant of tears!
Alas! that life's full harmony
Should pass into the minor key,
And death turn passion into pain,
And prayer be fruitless, love be vain;
Ring, then, ye chimes, but soft and low—
Solemn and sad, toll out our woe.
Oh ring a muffled, deep-toned knell,
The mournful peal of passing bell!
307
Oh Angel with the purple wings!
That o'er all life a shadow flings;
Death! thou dost teach the heart to sound
The depths of agony profound.
When sorrow, voiceless as the tomb,
Weeps in the silence, and is dumb.
Then ring, ye bells, a deep, sad knell,
In solemn tones of last farewell;
Nor balm nor lethe for such ill,
The gnawing grief will live on still.
That o'er all life a shadow flings;
Death! thou dost teach the heart to sound
The depths of agony profound.
When sorrow, voiceless as the tomb,
Weeps in the silence, and is dumb.
Then ring, ye bells, a deep, sad knell,
In solemn tones of last farewell;
Nor balm nor lethe for such ill,
The gnawing grief will live on still.
Death claimed as his the tender wife;
The husband's joy, life of his life:
He saw her drooping day by day,
As droops the flower and fades away,
Until at last she passed and fled,
And the living stood above the dead.
Oh ring, ye bells, a muffled peal,
Which on the ear shall slowly steal;
Sadly swing again, again,
As well befits a day of pain.
The husband's joy, life of his life:
He saw her drooping day by day,
As droops the flower and fades away,
Until at last she passed and fled,
And the living stood above the dead.
Oh ring, ye bells, a muffled peal,
Which on the ear shall slowly steal;
Sadly swing again, again,
As well befits a day of pain.
A long procession, winding slow,
Doth through the churchyard darkly go;
Mourners and bearers weeping all,
As with trembling hands they bear the pall—
And now they pause,—the words are said
Which tell of rest for the sainted dead.
Oh bells! toll solemnly, oh, toll!
From the world has passed a loving soul.
Dead is she, the tender wife,—
Dead in the bloom and bliss of life.
Doth through the churchyard darkly go;
Mourners and bearers weeping all,
As with trembling hands they bear the pall—
And now they pause,—the words are said
Which tell of rest for the sainted dead.
308
From the world has passed a loving soul.
Dead is she, the tender wife,—
Dead in the bloom and bliss of life.
Toll! “Earth to earth, and dust to dust.”
Toll! sobs are drowned in words of trust.
Toll! tears flow fast as, still and cold,
They lay her down in the churchyard mould.
Toll, toll again, oh sad bells, toll!
On the troubled ear your dirges roll.
Yet hope doth mingle with your sound,
And light breaks through grief's night profound.
For “Blest the dead,”—so says “the Word,”—
“Who dying rest in Christ the Lord.”
Toll! sobs are drowned in words of trust.
Toll! tears flow fast as, still and cold,
They lay her down in the churchyard mould.
Toll, toll again, oh sad bells, toll!
On the troubled ear your dirges roll.
Yet hope doth mingle with your sound,
And light breaks through grief's night profound.
For “Blest the dead,”—so says “the Word,”—
“Who dying rest in Christ the Lord.”
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |