Ring your sweet bells; but let them be farewells
To the green-vista'd gladness of the past
That changed us into soldiers; swing your bells
To a joyful chime; but let it be the last.
What means this metal in windy belfries hung
When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells
Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue
Let them cry doom and storm the sun with shells.
Bells are like fierce-browed prelates who proclaim
That “if our Lord returned He'd fight for us.”
So let our bells and bishops do the same,
Shoulder to shoulder with the motor bus.
Joy-bells
Siegfried Sassoon
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Poem topics: green, peace, sun, sweet, tongue, fight, storm, joyful, fierce, shoulder, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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