I Can Hear The Funeral Bell
I can hear the funeral bell tolling in the church across the way
Calling in the family and friends of the deceased one for to pray
For the soul of the departed though what happens to the soul
When life's last breath we have taken would seem beyond our control,
Tolling slow and tolling loudly carrying in the freshening breeze
Out there in the sunlit Parkland birds are whistling on the trees
Life on Earth goes on as usual though to life people come and go
Though of a life after death it would seem none can say that they truly know,
Listening to the bell toll slowly makes me once again recall
My own very fragile mortality there's a last day for us all,
Life is brief the years go quickly time does not wait for you or I
And they say the longer we live the sooner we are going to die
And though the funeral bell is tolling in the house of prayer nearby
Swallows chirp above the Parkland in the bright and sunny sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Related quotes
The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sing Me A Song
Sing me a song -
What shall I sing? -
Three merry sisters
Dancing in a ring,
Light and fleet upon their feet
As birds upon the wing.
Tell me a tale -
What shall I tell?
Two mournful sisters,
And a tolling knell,
Tolling ding and tolling dong,
Ding dong bell.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Afternoon in February
The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.
Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.
The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;
While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.
The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;
Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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When the bell tolls
At times when I hear
a church bell that tolls,
I know that there
is more to life
than just living.
On a Sunday
the bell tolls almost endlessly,
(like a alarm clock)
before the service begins.
At times when I hear
a church bell that tolls,
it rings for a funeral
and I am glad
that I’m alive.
At a wedding
the bell sings a joyful song
and everyone smiles at each other
and wait for the bride to appear.
In the dead of night
the bell tolls lonely
no one cares about
the time that it keeps,
as sleep creeps deeper
into everybody’s soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Farewell Bell
The peals of the funeral bell echo to the calm sky
For someone today 'tis a final goodbye
And on some future date whenever that be
A similar bell will be ringing for me.
Free of the cares of life and of worry and fear
The farewell bell for him or for her the deceased one doesn't hear
By it's slow drawn out tolls it's not hard for to tell
That for someone the ringer rings the farewell bell.
The same fate for you and for me and for all
To the scythe of the Reaper we eventually must fall
Yet on a sunlit wattle the magpie does sing
And he care not if for one the farewell bell ring.
A beautiful morning the magpie in song
With the farewell bell he is singing along
And white butterflies dancing a beautiful sight
Around the blossoming trees in the warm sunlight
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Midnight Meditation
Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care
To lengthen out thy life's short calendar?
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon
Presents and acts thy execution.
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry,
'Fool! as I fade and wither, thou must die.
'The beating of thy pulse (when thou art well)
Is just the tolling of thy Passing Bell:
Night is thy Hearse, whose sable Canopy
Covers alike deceased day and thee.
And all those weeping dews which nightly fall,
Are but the tears shed for thy funeral.'
poem by Henry King
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Left Bereft
I face the future fearfully
it’s time to say my last farewell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My joy in life is gone from me.
I lack the words with which to tell
I face the future fearfully.
Fell death chooses impartially
I hear the tolling funeral bell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
My friends bow heads respectfully.
My bitter tears already fell
I face the future fearfully.
I am sunk deep in misery
an unexpected blow which fell.
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
Life holds no value now for me,
without my love a lonely hell.
I face the future fearfully
The grey sky weeps in sympathy.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Last night [2]
When I went to bed
with her last night
and I heard the church bell
tolling off the time in the distance,
time lapsed for moments between us.
Her lips and twisting tongue,
was hot and wet
and her lithe body was soft.
We couldn’t wait a moment longer
and for some time,
we were in a world of our own.
With our own rhythm
our bodies melted into each others
and I could hear her heartbeat
and cries and together,
we loss sense of reality
and went to a better place.
While we were in each others arms
later on,
I knew that I could not love
any other woman more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Welcome
Hear the sound
Of the tolling bell
Ringing in the change
The gates of hell
Opening jaws
To welcome me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Mooring at Twilight in Yuyi District
Furling my sail near the town of Huai,
I find for harbour a little cove
Where a sudden breeze whips up the waves.
... The sun is growing dim now and sinks in the dusk.
People are coming home. The bright mountain-peak darkens.
Wildgeese fly down to an island of white weeds.
... At midnight I think of a northern city-gate,
And I hear a bell tolling between me and sleep.
poem by Wei Yingwu, translated by Witter Bynner
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Just in case
The death knell sounds sonorously.
The mourners dressed decorously
have come to say their last farewell.
Invited by the tolling bell.
Some come to pay their last respects.
Nobody mentions his defects.
An unspoken conspiracy.
A custom universally.
observed by all the human race.
A funeral is not the place
to criticise the newly dead.
Perhaps because we live in dread.
That vengeful ghosts will take offence.
We choose to lie in self defence.
19/09/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Uhland's
Yonder stands the hillside chapel
Mid the evergreens and rocks,
All day long it hears the song
Of the shepherd to his flocks.
Then the chapel bell goes tolling-
Knelling for a soul that's sped;
Silent and sad the shepherd lad
Hears the requiem for the dead.
Shepherd, singers of the valley,
Voiceless now, speed on before;
Soon shall knell that chapel bell
For the songs you'll sing no more.
poem by Eugene Field
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Aurora
Morning opens quietly
A shadow vision
Over me
I know you well
Hidden by the windows pane
And all my sadness
Gone charade
Begins to fade
How long it stayed
Patters of another day
Awaken slowly
Out of gray
A tolling bell
Rolling down the alleyway
Its calling all
My dreams away
My dreams are songs I play
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Temple Of The King
One day, in the year of the fox
Came a time remembered well,
When the strong young man of the rising sun
Heard the tolling of the great black bell.
One day in the year of the fox,
When the bell began to ring,
It meant the time had come for one to go
To the temple of the king.
There in the middle of the circle he stands,
Searching, seeking.
With just one touch of his trembling hand,
The answer will be found.
Daylight waits while the old man sings,
Heaven help me!
And then like the rush of a thousand wings,
It shines upon the one.
And the day has just begun.
One day in the year of the fox
Came a time remembered well,
When the strong young man of the rising sun
Heard the tolling of the great black bell.
One day in the year of the fox,
When the bell began to sing
It meant the time had come for the one to go
To the temple of the king.
There in the middle of the people he stands,
Seeing, feeling.
With just a wave of the strong right hand, hes gone
To the temple of the king.
Far from the circle, at the edge of the world,
Hes hoping, wondering.
Thinking back on the stories hes heard of
What hes going to see.
There, in the middle of a circle it lies.
Heaven help me!
Then all could see by the shine in his eyes
The answer had been found.
Back with the people in the circle he stands,
Giving, feeling.
With just one touch of a strong right hand, they know
Of the temple and the king.
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temple Of The King
One day in the year of the fox
Came a time remembered well
When the strong young man of the rising sun
Heard the tolling of the great black bell
One day in the year of the fox
When the bell began to ring
Meant the time had cometh
For one to go
To the temple of the king
There in the middle of the circle he stands
Searching, seeking
With just one touch of his trembling hand
The answer will be found
Daylight waits while the old man sings
Heaven help me
And then like the rush of a thousand wings
It shines upon the one
And the day had just begun
One day in the year of the fox
Came a time remembered well
When the strong young man of the rising sun
Heard the tolling of the great black bell
One day in the year of the fox
When the bell began to sing
It meant the time had cometh
For one to go
To the temple of the king
There in the middle of the people
He stands
Seeing, feeling
With just a wave of a strong right hand
He's gone
To the temple of the king
Far from the circle at the edge of the world
He's hoping, wondering
Thinking back from the stories he's heard
Of what he's going to see
There in middle of the circle it lies
Heaven help me
Then all could see by the shine in his eyes
The answer had been found
Back with the people in the circle
He stands
Giving, feeling
With just one touch of a strong right hand
They know
Of the temple and the king
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
947
Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
"A Soul has gone to Heaven"
I'm answered in a lonesome tone—
Is Heaven then a Prison?
That Bells should ring till all should know
A Soul had gone to Heaven
Would seem to me the more the way
A Good News should be given.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least --
I'm going, all along.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Hypocrite
Don't cringe or whine
You little swine!
You're scared of the Truth
With all the cowardice of modern Youth,
But when you're old
You won't be bold,
You'll always live a total Lie,
You'll always have an alibi,
So go to Hell!
The world can't bear your sickly smell!
You're drowning in your Wishing Well
And I hear the tolling of the bell.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Youth and Age
Youth and Age
Oh! Such glorious evening!
Is it melted gold
Poured
Across the skies?
Or
Is it from an artist's
Giant Palette
Splashed so bright?
My spirit bounces
At the enchanting reflection
In the shimmering waters;
At the twitter of the birds
From the swinging branches;
At the colourful flowers
Gently swaying in the breeze.
I dance
To the tune of my mind,
With the bells jingling;
It's soulful music ringing,
I am caught in a trance!
I emerge slowly—
Very slowly—
Only to find
Darkness
Having enveloped me!
Groping,
I shiver and shudder!
Alas! Youth has passed away! !
Age has come to stay!
Hark! Is it the bell jingling?
Nay! It is the death-knell tolling!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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