Classic Poem

Oh , solemn passing-bell!
What said thy measured knell
In ancient time,
When, breaking folly's song,
It warn'd a listening throng,
With mournful chime?

Slowly o'er rock and dell,
Thus thy deep accents fell,
Thus spake the toll:
" One of thine own frail race
Gaspeth in death's embrace —
Pray for his soul.

" The strong man's arm is weak;
See from pale brow and cheek
Cold dew-drops roll;
How can he break away
From those who need his stay?
Pray for his soul.

" Hark to a wailing sound!
A household gather round
With grief and dole;
The mother struggleth sore,
She heeds her babe no more —
Pray for her soul.

" To beauty's shaded room,
The spoiler's step of gloom
Hath darkly stole;
Her lips are ghastly white,
A film is o'er her sight —
Pray for her soul. "

Oh, bell that slowly toll'd!
Were these thy words of old,
Bidding men bow
In prayer for those who bear
The pang they soon must share?
What say'st thou now?

" One from his dear abode
Travelleth the church-yard road,
To his last bed;
The widow next the bier
Walketh, with blinding tear —
Toll for the dead.

" The pauper layeth down
Gaunt penury's galling crown
Of scorn and dread;
Great as a king he goes
Unto his long repose —
Toll for the dead.

" From crib and cradle fair,
From love's unresting care,
A child hath fled;
Let snow-drops lift their eye
Where the shorn bud must lie —
Toll for the dead.

" Low 'neath the coffin-lid
An aged one hath hid
His hoary head;
On staff, at sunny door,
Ye'll see him lean no more —
Toll for the dead. "

Oh, holy passing bell!
Mingling thy solemn knell
Thus with our tears;
While, like the shuttle's flight,
Like the short summer-night,
Fleet our brief years;

Prompt us His will to do,
Bid us His favour sue,
Warn us His wrath to rue,
Unto whose eye,
Unto whose bar of dread,
Judge of the quick and dead,
Every hour's silent tread
Bringeth us nigh.