The Bell

Beating whether with joy or fear
I admire the mythic swell
Of the note I each day hear
From the throat of the silver bell.

Set sail fair chime—set sail
To caress shade of the widow’s veil
Or kiss the tears so soft away
As thou doth sing to the wedding day.

Locked alas in thy high tower,
Ensnared by day and night
Shouldering the burden of the hour—
Thunderous, thy peels take flight.

And dear bell I waken to each note
That rises from thy silver throat
Wondering if thy distant voice
Bids welcome sorrow or sweet rejoice

I see coins o’er new-fallen eyes
And wonder where the carcass lies,
Or to the sky I present my hand
Imagining gold of a wedding band.

Mystery waken me I pray—
Hold me in thy spell!
Funeral or wedding day?
Tell me my dear bell.