The Two Bells
Transparent and ethereal above the Sea of Time
A tower all of crystal uprears its form sublime.
The walls of its foundation sink down abysmally
More deep than any thought can reach or any eye can see.
It rises to the starry heavens, it pierces through and through,
Until it leaves the last lone star behind it in the blue;
It lifts its airy belfry through space to such a height
That man's imagination reels in terror at the flight.
Two bells there are suspended within that belfry's dome.
The first is wrought of dawn-light that streamed ere day had come.
It sways its golden clapper when flitting thoughts have birth,
And softly chimes in concord with the breathing of the Earth.
But, though it chimes so softly, it has a warning tone,
Which in a clear vibration sinks down from zone to zone,
And dies away on earth here with murmur faint and low
In the unrest of noble souls and in the sunset's glow.
How earnestly, how gently it prompts the chosen few
To dream high dreams, and strive then to make those dreams come true,
Reminding them each evening by sunset's flaming spell
Of distant, undiscovered lands where Truth and Beauty dwell.
Entreatingly it urges to haste the holy hour
When all men shall be brothers through Love's uniting power,
When each heart shall find comfort by soothing hands caressed,
Each weary head repose at last on a belovèd breast.
Entreatingly it urges mankind to rise up strong
And join with its pure accents in one vast freedom-song,
To send the joyous tidings out o'er the world's wide rim:
Behold the Earth is God's domain, and all men worship Him!
But ah! the other bell-form is filled with molten gloom
That clung within the darkness of Chaos' dismal womb.
The heavy clapper moves not, all hushed and dumb its might,
The hollow of the bell is like the vaulted depth of night.
And just below the belfry there sits in sombre thought
A demon, with his fingers around the bell-rope caught.
Unmoving as a statue, he gazes grimly down
On Time's loud-roaring billows that go past beneath his frown.
The billows now are gleaming, now shines the sun on high,—
But should a fearsome blackness o'ershadow all the sky,
And the last wave be broken amid the weltering foam
That rocked the poet's visioned hope of fairer life to come;
If blank despair should fall on the struggling human race,
The freedom-song be silenced by cravings weak or base,
And, numb with cold, the heart of youth perceive without a throe
The holy form of Goodness leave the Earth with fading glow;—
Then sudden on the bell-rope the hands would clench more tight,
Then would the demon tug there with mad and fierce delight,
The awful bell of Darkness would swing its mighty round;
And all the trembling Universe be shattered by the sound.
A tower all of crystal uprears its form sublime.
The walls of its foundation sink down abysmally
More deep than any thought can reach or any eye can see.
It rises to the starry heavens, it pierces through and through,
Until it leaves the last lone star behind it in the blue;
It lifts its airy belfry through space to such a height
That man's imagination reels in terror at the flight.
Two bells there are suspended within that belfry's dome.
The first is wrought of dawn-light that streamed ere day had come.
It sways its golden clapper when flitting thoughts have birth,
And softly chimes in concord with the breathing of the Earth.
But, though it chimes so softly, it has a warning tone,
Which in a clear vibration sinks down from zone to zone,
And dies away on earth here with murmur faint and low
In the unrest of noble souls and in the sunset's glow.
How earnestly, how gently it prompts the chosen few
To dream high dreams, and strive then to make those dreams come true,
Reminding them each evening by sunset's flaming spell
Of distant, undiscovered lands where Truth and Beauty dwell.
Entreatingly it urges to haste the holy hour
When all men shall be brothers through Love's uniting power,
When each heart shall find comfort by soothing hands caressed,
Each weary head repose at last on a belovèd breast.
Entreatingly it urges mankind to rise up strong
And join with its pure accents in one vast freedom-song,
To send the joyous tidings out o'er the world's wide rim:
Behold the Earth is God's domain, and all men worship Him!
But ah! the other bell-form is filled with molten gloom
That clung within the darkness of Chaos' dismal womb.
The heavy clapper moves not, all hushed and dumb its might,
The hollow of the bell is like the vaulted depth of night.
And just below the belfry there sits in sombre thought
A demon, with his fingers around the bell-rope caught.
Unmoving as a statue, he gazes grimly down
On Time's loud-roaring billows that go past beneath his frown.
The billows now are gleaming, now shines the sun on high,—
But should a fearsome blackness o'ershadow all the sky,
And the last wave be broken amid the weltering foam
That rocked the poet's visioned hope of fairer life to come;
If blank despair should fall on the struggling human race,
The freedom-song be silenced by cravings weak or base,
And, numb with cold, the heart of youth perceive without a throe
The holy form of Goodness leave the Earth with fading glow;—
Then sudden on the bell-rope the hands would clench more tight,
Then would the demon tug there with mad and fierce delight,
The awful bell of Darkness would swing its mighty round;
And all the trembling Universe be shattered by the sound.
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