 | Leaves of life |  |
168
THE BELFRY.
Here bells once swung their heavy tongues
And called the faithful in to prayer.
Climb up the ladder's shaky rungs,
And let us see what now is there;
There now no clamorous bell's tongue swings,
But gentle, soft, warm wings.
And called the faithful in to prayer.
Climb up the ladder's shaky rungs,
And let us see what now is there;
There now no clamorous bell's tongue swings,
But gentle, soft, warm wings.
The birds build in the belfry high—
In God's own house they make their nests;
And we have watched them, you and I,
And envied their unruffled breasts,
And long to find some sure retreat,
And build our nest, my Sweet.
In God's own house they make their nests;
And we have watched them, you and I,
And envied their unruffled breasts,
And long to find some sure retreat,
And build our nest, my Sweet.
Yet since we may not build a nest
Within the church's shadow, dear,
It surely were not all unblest
To build a happy nest out here,
Where all the winds of heaven blow
And rose and heartsease grow.
Within the church's shadow, dear,
It surely were not all unblest
To build a happy nest out here,
Where all the winds of heaven blow
And rose and heartsease grow.
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