The Bells Are Silenced, Glory Be to God!

I
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

--Edgar Allan Poe, "The Bells"

Life is about time, if nothing else. There is a time for merriment and laughter. There is a time for great joy and expectation. There is a time for dread and alarm. There is a time for death and the end of all things. This is fact. Yet, though it is fact, it does not follow that we should like it. I, for one, hate death. It should not be and should never have been. When the apostle mockingly proclaims "Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave, where is thy victory?" my heart joins the derision and rings forth with resounding, jubulant laughter. Christ is risen! Death has been slain! It is conquered! Damn the laughing and the scorning of the bells!

And you too can hear the bells--
Cursed bells!
In your heart of solitude, pure terror surely swells!
By your lonely bed at night,
In the darkness without light,
As you breathe in your despair an horrid moan!
Every day that passes,
(They roll in endless masses)--
Monotone.
Oh the mistakes, and the regrets,
A true repentant heart besets,
Were it stone.
But their pealing, pealing, pealing,
Like a deep, incessant drone,
Succeed well in this their sealing
In our hearts a hopeless groan.
Thus they discharge with no reprieve
A rotten emptiness they leave--
Damn them all:
Damn their clatter and their clang
As they bang, bang, bang,
Bang
Those wicked, evil bells!
Of our ruin each foretells
Damn the clanging of the bells,
Sounding spiritual death knells;
Sounding death, death, death,
With each issue of their breath,
Damn, the sneering of the bells
Of the bells:
Sounding death, death, death,
With each issue of their breath
Damn the jeering of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells—
Damn the laughing of the bells;
Sounding death, death, death!
And their knells, knells, knells,
With each vomit of their breath,
Damn the mocking of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
Damn the hatred of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells--
Bells, bells, bells—
Damn the scoffing and the scorning of the bells.