 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
273
THE BELLS AT MIDNIGHT
In their dark House of Cloud
The three weird sisters toil till time be sped;
One unwinds life, one ever weaves the shroud,
One waits to part the thread.
The three weird sisters toil till time be sped;
One unwinds life, one ever weaves the shroud,
One waits to part the thread.
I
CLOTHO
How long, O sister, how long
Ere the weary task is done?
How long, O sister, how long
Shall the fragile thread be spun?
Ere the weary task is done?
How long, O sister, how long
Shall the fragile thread be spun?
LACHESIS
'T is mercy that stays her hand,
Else she had cut the thread;
She is a woman too,
Like her who kneels by his bed!
Else she had cut the thread;
She is a woman too,
Like her who kneels by his bed!
ATROPOS
Patience! the end is come;
He shall no more endure:
See! with a single touch!—
My hand is swift and sure!
He shall no more endure:
See! with a single touch!—
My hand is swift and sure!
274
II
Two Angels pausing in their flightFIRST ANGEL
Listen! what was it fell
An instant ago on my ear—
A sound like the throb of a bell
From yonder darkling sphere.
SECOND ANGEL
The planet where mortals dwell!
I hear it not ... yes, I hear;
How it deepens—a sound of dole!
FIRST ANGEL
Listen! It is the knell
Of a passing soul—
The midnight lamentation
Of some stricken nation
For a chieftain's soul!
It is just begun,
The many-throated moan ...
Now the clangor swells
As if a million bells
Had blent their tones in one!
Accents of despair
Are these to mortal ear;
But all this wild funereal music blown
275
Turns to triumphal pæans here!
Wave upon wave the silvery anthems flow;
Wave upon wave the deep vibrations roll
From that dim sphere below.
Come, let us go—
Surely, some chieftain's soul!
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |