The Lost Bells
Year after year the artist wrought
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.
For this no metal was too rare,
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.
When morning flushed with crimson light
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.
And when the sun was sinking low
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.
The music of a thousand harps
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.
He poured his soul into their chimes,
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.
But evil days came on apace,
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.
At dewy morn and stilly eve
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.
A weary longing filled his soul,
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes --
The chimes he loved so well.
Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose,
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.
And thus he wandered year by year.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.
And to that worn and weary heart
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.
"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried,
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.
Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm,
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.
It may be that he met again,
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;
That he who crossed and bowed his head
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Related quotes
Wind Chimes
Hangin' down from my window
Those are my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
In the late afternoon you're
Hung up on wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Though it's hard i try
Not to look at my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Now and then a tear rolls on my cheek
On a warm breeze the little bells
Tinklin' wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Close your eyes and lean back
Listen to wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
It's so peaceful
Close to a lullabye
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Da do do da do do da do do da do do
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chimes are the Wind
Chime’s are the Wind
“Chimes are the wind”, when it goes from Dawn to Twilight.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the sun goes down and the moon goes up.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the Ocean’s tidal waves splash the deep blue and the aqua
water and the tidal pools disappear.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the puffy white clouds cover the golden yellow sun.
“Chimes are the wind”, when the rain floods the river.
“Chimes are the wind”, when there’s a million possibilities.
“Chimes are the wind”, when there are no more possibilities to harm the world
when there’s such a peaceful place in the universe that there is so-many
possibilities there are endless possibilities.
By: Bella Martinez
poem by Bella Martinez
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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New England Sabbath Bells
Methinks I hear those tuneful chimes,
Borne on the breath of morn,
Proclaiming to the silent world
Another Sabbath born.
With solemn sound they echo through
The stilly summer air,
Winning the heart of wayward man
Unto the house of prayer!
New England's sweet church-going bells,
Their memory's very dear;
And oft in dreams we seem to hear
Them ringing loud and clear.
Again we see the village-spire
Pointing toward the skies;
And hear our reverend pastor tell
Of life that never dies!
We see him moving down the aisle,
In light subdued and dim;
The while the organ's swelling notes
Chant forth the grateful hymn.
The forms of those our childhood knew,
By meadow, grove and hill,
Are gathering round with kindly looks,
As if they loved us still!
In careless hours of gladsome youth,
'Twas our thrice-blessed lot,
To dwell upon New England's shores,
Where God is not forgot.
Where temples to his name are raised,
And where, on bended knee,
The Christian sends to heavenly courts
The worship of the free!
New England's Sabbath chimes!--we love
Upon those words to dwell;
They fall upon our spirits with
A sweetly-soothing spell,
Bringing to mind those brighter days
When hope beamed on our way,
And life seemed to our souls but one
Pure and unclouded day!
New England's Sabbath bells!--when last
We heard their merry chime,
The air was rife with pleasant sounds;
For 'twas the glad spring-time!
The robin to those tuneful peals
Poured forth a thrilling strain;
O, 'tis our dearest hope to hear
Those Sabbath bells again!
For now we're many a weary mile
From that New England home;
In lands where laughing summer lies,
Our wandering footsteps roam.
But yet those sweetly-chiming bells
Those heavenward-pointing spires,
Awaken e'er the brightest glow
From memory's vestal-fires.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Divine Lullaby
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord;
I hear it by the stormy sea
When winter nights are black and wild,
And when, affright, I call to Thee;
It calms my fears and whispers me,
"Sleep well, my child."
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord,
In singing winds, in falling snow,
The curfew chimes, the midnight bell.
"Sleep well, my child," it murmurs low;
"The guardian angels come and go,--
O child, sleep well!"
I hear Thy voice, dear Lord,
Ay, though the singing winds be stilled,
Though hushed the tumult of the deep,
My fainting heart with anguish chilled
By Thy assuring tone is thrilled,--
"Fear not, and sleep!"
Speak on--speak on, dear Lord!
And when the last dread night is near,
With doubts and fears and terrors wild,
Oh, let my soul expiring hear
Only these words of heavenly cheer,
"Sleep well, my child!"
poem by Eugene Field
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Fountain, The: A Conversation
We talked with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,
A pair of friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy-two.
We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat;
And from the turf a fountain broke,
And gurgled at our feet.
"Now, Matthew!" said I, "let us match
This water's pleasant tune
With some old border-song, or catch
That suits a summer's noon;
"Or of the church-clock and the chimes
Sing here beneath the shade,
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
Which you last April made!"
In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old Man replied,
The grey-haired man of glee:
"No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears;
How merrily it goes!
'Twill murmur on a thousand years,
And flow as now it flows.
"And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain's brink.
"My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.
"Thus fares it still in our decay:
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what age takes away
Than what it leaves behind.
"The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please
Are quiet when they will.
"With Nature never do 'they' wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:
"But we are pressed by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.
"If there be one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own;
It is the man of mirth.
"My days, my Friend, are almost gone,
My life has been approved,
And many love me; but by none
Am I enough beloved."
"Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains;
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains;
"And, Matthew, for thy children dead
I'll be a son to thee!"
At this he grasped my hand, and said,
"Alas! that cannot be."
We rose up from the fountain-side;
And down the smooth descent
Of the green sheep-track did we glide;
And through the wood we went;
And, ere we came to Leonard's rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church-clock,
And the bewildered chimes.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Chimes Of Freedom
Well, far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashin'
As majestic bells of boats struck shadows in the sun;
Sayin', it may be the chimes of freedom flashin'
Flashin' for the warriors whose strength is not to fight;
Flashin' for the refugees on their unarmed road of flight.
And for each and every underdog soldier in the night
We gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashin'
Well, in the city's melted furnace unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden here while the walls were tightenin'
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowing rain;
Dissolved into the wild bales of lightnin'
Yeah, tollin' for the rebel, yeah, tollin' for the raked
Tollin' for the luckless, the abandoned and forsaked.
Yeah, tollin' for the outcasts burnin' constantly at stakes
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashin'
Oh yeah! (instrumental solo)
And then through a cloud-like curtain in a far off corner flashed
There's a hypnotic, splattered mist was slowly liftin'
Well, electric light still struck like arrows
Fired but for the ones condemned to drift or else be kept from driftin'
Well, tollin' for the searching ones on this speechless, secret trail
For the lonesome haunted lovers with too personal a tale.
And for each young heart for each channeled soul misplaced inside a jail
Yeah, we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashin'
Well, starry eyed and laughin' i recall when we were caught,
Trapped by an old track of vows for the hands suspended
As we listened one last time, and we watched with one last look
Spellbound and swallowed "has the tollin' ended?"
Yeah, tollin' for the achin' ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless, confused, accused, misused strung out ones at worst.
And for every hung out person in the whole wide universe
We gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashin'
Uh uh uh... (to end)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neue Regel
Reach for a new horizon
Setting sights on a circuit scream
Hail the new arrival on
Static signs from a distant wanderer
Fill the air nights are never seen
Face the electric time shock now
No its not a dream anymore
I will light the way for us to find
Order of a new kind
Join us on the stay the road is mine
Poets line in a rhyme of silence
Gathered from the winter air
Warms the childrens eyes they see
The time is near for the signs
I can hear the chimes
Ringing for you for me
I can see your eyes
Your hands joining with me
I can feel its time
Come together hold the light
Keep the flame we cant let this world remain
The same
I can hear the chimes
Ringing for you for me
I can see your eyes
Your hands joining with me
I can feel its time
Its time for the world to hear
Neue regel is here
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Year's Morning
Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year's heart all weary grew,
But said: The New Year rest has brought."
The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but trusting, said:
"The blossoms of the New Year's crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead."
The Old Year's heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: "I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year's generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love it shall understand;
By all y failures it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find sweet pace where I leave strife."
Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.
Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year's morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old coem true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Old Times
Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times;
Of the long lost golden hours.
When "Winter" meant only Christmas chimes,
And "Summer" wreaths of flowers.
Life has grown old, and cold, my friend,
And the winter now, means death.
And summer blossoms speak all too plain
Of the dear, dead forms beneath.
But let us talk of the past to-night;
And live it over again,
We will put the long years out of sight,
And dream we are young as then.
But you must not look at me, my friend,
And I must not look at you,
Or the furrowed brows, and silvered locks,
Will prove our dream untrue.
Let us sing of the summer, too sweet to last,
And yet too sweet to die.
Let us read tales, from the book of the past,
And talk of the days gone by.
We will turn our backs to the West, my friend,
And forget we are growing old.
The skies of the Present are dull, and gray,
But the Past's are blue, and gold.
The sun has passed over the noontide line
And is sinking down the West.
And of friends we knew in days Lang Syne,
Full half have gone to rest.
And the few that are left on earth, my friend
Are scattered far, and wide.
But you and I will talk of the days
Ere any roamed, or died.
Auburn ringlets, and hazel eyes
Blue eyes and tresses of gold.
Winds joy laden, and azure skies,
Belong to those days of old.
We will leave the Present's shores awhile
And float on the Past's smooth sea.
But I must not look at you, my friend,
And you must not look at me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Heart of Kansas
My heart belongs to Kansas
My soul and mind do too
In the eyes of my sweet love
Like the skies above so blue.
You touch my very soul
You take my breath away
And as I travel in my mind
It's at your side I'll stay.
Where ever this life takes me
How far and wide I roam
I'll return to Kansas
My ever loving home.
Its there I'll find my family
Its there we've all been born
And from this land of plenty
I never can be torn.
Your grains of flaxen wheat
Dancing in the wind
Like golden chimes of angels harps
Good tidings they do send.
Your rivers flow from north to south
Your valleys do grow green
In the sunshine of your plains
Nature's best is seen.
I love you home sweet Kansas
I'll never let you down
For in the heartland of this earth
Its happiness I've found.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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new school year
old bell chimes
a fresh term
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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new school year
fresh faces everywhere
the same old bell chimes
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Will Of The Wind
The voices in the wind,
Will take you home again,
The journey home has just begun by friend,
The magic in your eyes,
Was more than I surmised,
And I surrender time and time again,
To the will of the wind
The will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
Takes you home again.
The will of the wind
The will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
Takes you home again.
The will of the wind
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Special New Year 1-1-11
A goodbye to a confused decade, goodbye to a year
As the weary old year wanes, bringing me a sad tear
History receives a turbulence filled decade and a 2010
...Many memories special to treasure, some laden with pain
The painful past should not, no longer must revive
For happiness to blossom, a journey magically will survive
Running out of years, my ebony black hair turns silver
The insensitive clock chimes to unfold another dawning year
A beautiful fleet and a majestic dignified display
For many decades to surface, with a radiance sail
With Two thousand and eleven wishes and many more
Wishing you my dears peace love and happiness galore
Many sweet dreams cherish smiling in good cheer
The wonderful world, family friends to greet the new
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Chimes Of Freedom
Far between sundowns finish an midnights broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An for each an evry underdog soldier in the night
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
In the citys melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin constantly at stake
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an cheated by pursuit
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Even though a clouds white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Starry-eyed an laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an we watched with one last look
Spellbound an swallowed til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an worse
An for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farewell To The Old Year, 1863
Farewell, old year, 'the bourne' is near,
'Whence traveller ne'er returneth'-
Passing away from time for aye,
Thy life-light faintly burneth.
Farewell, old year, dark shapes of fear,
Grim spectres pale and gory,
Flitting around, with moaning sound,
Tell us thy sad war story.
Farewell, old year, we do not fear
Republic or Imperial-
If war inclined, they both shall find
We're rather tough material.
Farewell, old year, thy past career
Hath given both gloom and gladness;
Thou gave us peace, but no decrease
In human crime and madness.
Farewell, old year, the pall and bier
Thou saw us oft attending,
And heard oft-times the merry chimes
Of birth and wedlock blending.
Farewell, old year, a voice we hear,
How solemnly it falleth-
'All flesh is grass,' prepare to pass,
Ere long the Master calleth!
Farewell, old year, thy knell we hear
Through Time's dark arches sounding;
Wrapt in thy shroud, a dense, dark cloud
Thy solemn bier surrounding.
Farewell, old year, we still have cheer,
Though tinged with doubt and sorrow,
We leave thy urn and gladly turn
To give new year good morrow.
poem by Janet Hamilton
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The Captain And Me
Deep as a river, wide as the sea
Changin' the ways of a captain and me
I could be happy, Lord, so then should he
If all of the universe unveiled itself to me
So then a day flows into night
Down the street the beggar man who finds himself in wine
If I am a good man and sure in all my ways
The captain of a starship that's homeward bound today
Growin', growin', changin' ev'ry day
Knowin', showin' all my worldly ways
Hear the chimes, hear how they ring
Marking time all through the day
A whisper, an answer, a cry in the night
Break down, turn around, a feeling of fright
The Indian, the Black Man, the Asian who see
A door that is opening, and they're goin' to be free
Growin', growin', changin' ev'ry day
Knowin', showin' all my worldly ways
Hear the chimes, hear how they ring
Marking time all through the day
We are all acceptable, we are all a place in time
Moving through a passageway, bringing forth the end of time
Growin', growin', changin' ev'ry day
Knowin', showin' all my worldly ways
Hear the chimes, hear how they ring
Marking time all through the day
Light the fire, start the day, mark the light that shows the way
Changing times of fortunes past, we will all be free at last
We are the people of the round about
We are the sails upon the sea
We're gonna be there when ev'ry body laughs about
The way that we are changin', you and me, yeah
We are the people of the round about
We are the sails upon the sea
We're gonna be there when ev'ry body laughs about
The way that we are changin', you and me, yeah
We are the people of the round about
We are the sails upon the sea
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three At The Door
Door bell chimes its discordant tune
ringing in still light, in month of June,
doors open wide, with sight alive
to coloured visions in my mind.
Ears receiving sounds of kinds
children's play and traffic bound
songs birding in birches' branched out hands.
I thought back to days on balmy nights
where we'd danced to disco'd sounds;
three stood at my door
their words as like a trumpet call
with sounds that tinkled, hard to find
amid the drumming in my mind.
Not them again, not them, not them,
them... them....them, them, them.
The beat drowned out the bugled call.
Not hearing words or seeing true
coloured eyes with blinded mind
I did not hear to know what they said
just listened to those drums
resounding in my head.
They came bringing salvation of their kind,
a salvation I must find?
I smiled received a saviours' pamphlet
bid them well, their buttons shined,
in my mind discordant chimes
ringing in still light of June.
poem by David Taylor
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Unanticipated Legion
Once, on a hill where a rubber tree stood
A sea of clumped stars in the darkness brewed
Lanterns and chimes tinkered in the dark of clouds
And dumbfounded was the gloomy vow
Astray, a vagrant meander into the slope
Past the reluctant brambles, rummaging for hope
And into the hill where enthralling mirth flow
And the ebullient air hummed saliently low
He picked up his head, mused upon the castle
That rubber tree personified and he tousled
His hair, an ounce of ardor peeking through the coyness
His hands tracing the lines, ears listening through the dampness
And from the damp a saccharine voice spoke:
"Such black eyes—a mirror with fluent strokes"
And the orbits probed for the prying soul
Winding his knee and rubbing his sole
Reluctantly, he by retorted a trifle:
"Do you see this lion beneath your temple
If so, come down, past your vivid orbs and chimes
And give me reasons to own my time"
"Dear Lion, I am a Duck, thus I cannot go
And leave my enchanted swamp tangled in the boughs"
And the reticent boy lingered with a grin
Prowling and roaring in his body so lean
Soon, before he can reckon the sunset afloat
He had rooted himself in the undergrowth
And made a home in a mirthful trance
Relearning the varying tempo to prance
And when the comport had blended in his blood
The Duck dawned in a plummeting strut
Soused her dowry in the coruscations
And revealed a Swan for her redemption
The hibiscus possessing her seams
Blooms with the orchard of dreams
Her melodious lilt of swansong not
Tethered the boy in a gnarled knot
Such lovely soul galloping mellifluously
Dragging the Lion out of his maladies
For a night or two, lighting her lanterns
And escaping from the haunting taverns.
poem by Norman Santos
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