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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535354" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fool Rings His Bells</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, Death, I'd have a word with thee; <br>And thou, poor Innocency; <br>And Love -- a lad with broken wing; <br>Apnd Pity, too; <br>The Fool shall sing to you, <br>As Fools will sing. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, music hath small sense, <br>And a tune's soon told, <br>And Earth is old, <br>And my poor wits are dense; <br>Yet have I secrets, -- dar, my dear, <br>To breathe you all: Come near. <br>And lest some hideous listener tells, <br>I'll ring my bells. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They're all at war! <br>Yes, yes, their bodies go <br>'Neath burning sun and icy star <br>To chaunted songs of woe, <br>Dragging cold cannon through a mud <br>Of rain and blood; <br>The new moon glinting hard on eyes <br>Wide with insanities. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hush! . . . I use words <br>I hardly know the meaning of; <br>And the mute birds <br>Are glancing at Love! <br>From out their shade of leaf and flower, <br>Trembling at treacheries <br>Which even in noonday cower. <br>Heed, heed not what I said <br>Of frenzied hosts of men, <br>More fools than I, <br>On envy, hatred fed, <br>Who kill, and die -- <br>Spake I not plainly, then? <br>Yet Pity whispered, &quot;Why?&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou silly thing, off to thy daisies go. <br>Mine was not news for child to know, <br>And Death -- no ears hath. He hath supped where creep <br>Eyeless worms in hush of sleep; <br>Yet, when he smiles, the hand he draws <br>Athwart his grinning jaws <br>Faintly their thin bones rattle, and . . . There, there; <br>Hearken how my bells in the air <br>Drive away care! . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay, but a dream I had <br>Of a world all mad. <br>Not a simple happy mad like me, <br>Who am mad like an empty scene <br>Of water and willow tree, <br>Where the wind hath been; <br>But that foul Satan-mad, <br>Who rots in his own head, <br>And counts the dead, <br>Not honest one -- and two -- <br>But for the ghosts they were, <br>Brave, faithful, true, <br>When, heads in air, <br>In Earth's clear green and blue <br>Heaven they did share <br>With Beauty who bade them there. . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There, now! he goes -- <br>Old Bones; I've wearied him. <br>Ay, and the light doth dim, <br>And asleep's the rose, <br>And tired Innocence <br>In dreams is hence. . . <br>Come, Love, my lad, <br>Nodding that drawsy head, <br>'T is time thy prayers were said!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Walter+de+la+Mare">Walter de la Mare</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535354" data-title="The Fool Rings His Bells de Walter de la Mare" data-description="Come, Death, I'd have a word with thee; 
And thou, poor Innocency; 
And Love -- a lad with broken wing; 
Apnd Pity, too; 
The Fool shall sing to you, 
As Fools will sing. 

Ay, music hath small sense, 
And a tune's soon told, 
And Earth is old, 
A..."></div>
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