The Bells of Antwerp
Why do you call to me,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages?What is your secret that charms each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind?...“We are the keepers of secrets, sighed to us out of the darkness;Guardians of clandestine loves that will burn past all human remembrance,Told by our tongues that rejoice in the undying ardor of telling.Ancient conspiracy ran to our doors, we appointing the hour,Passed through the arras and knelt for the gesture that spelt absolution,Forgetting that we spied the drama to curse and proclaim at our pleasure.We are the tyrants that reigned in the city of mantle and doubletAnd hose; when the gem-crusted baldric that sheltered the dagger was slung’Cross a heart that beat steadfast and calm with a faith most eternally constant.Each of us carols an air that was born of a vision-mad organist,Preaches the infinite word that God whispered to man when his upliftedEyes caught a flash of eternity granted as part of the covenant.Joyful our voices and kind to the heart that is sad with contrition,Bringing a hope in the good that is past with the quieter ages,Soothing humanity’s fears with our message that tells of a future.Harsh and unmeaning and cruel is our song to the souls that are stiffWith a pride that turns faith in the mind to a stone in the heart of the thinker,Blinded by twilight within, which shuts out all sunshine and laughter.Ever unchanging our call, to the winds, the clouds and the rainbow,Rings forth in song at the moments that God as His sentinels ordered;Now we are one with the jet-wingéd night and the cloud-mantled sunrise.”...“Thus do we call to you,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages.These be our secrets that charm each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind.”MORRIS TYLER.
Why do you call to me,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages?What is your secret that charms each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind?...“We are the keepers of secrets, sighed to us out of the darkness;Guardians of clandestine loves that will burn past all human remembrance,Told by our tongues that rejoice in the undying ardor of telling.Ancient conspiracy ran to our doors, we appointing the hour,Passed through the arras and knelt for the gesture that spelt absolution,Forgetting that we spied the drama to curse and proclaim at our pleasure.We are the tyrants that reigned in the city of mantle and doubletAnd hose; when the gem-crusted baldric that sheltered the dagger was slung’Cross a heart that beat steadfast and calm with a faith most eternally constant.Each of us carols an air that was born of a vision-mad organist,Preaches the infinite word that God whispered to man when his upliftedEyes caught a flash of eternity granted as part of the covenant.Joyful our voices and kind to the heart that is sad with contrition,Bringing a hope in the good that is past with the quieter ages,Soothing humanity’s fears with our message that tells of a future.Harsh and unmeaning and cruel is our song to the souls that are stiffWith a pride that turns faith in the mind to a stone in the heart of the thinker,Blinded by twilight within, which shuts out all sunshine and laughter.Ever unchanging our call, to the winds, the clouds and the rainbow,Rings forth in song at the moments that God as His sentinels ordered;Now we are one with the jet-wingéd night and the cloud-mantled sunrise.”...“Thus do we call to you,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages.These be our secrets that charm each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind.”MORRIS TYLER.
Why do you call to me,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages?What is your secret that charms each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind?
Why do you call to me,
Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages?
What is your secret that charms each new listener back to life’s pages
Men scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind?
...
...
“We are the keepers of secrets, sighed to us out of the darkness;Guardians of clandestine loves that will burn past all human remembrance,Told by our tongues that rejoice in the undying ardor of telling.Ancient conspiracy ran to our doors, we appointing the hour,Passed through the arras and knelt for the gesture that spelt absolution,Forgetting that we spied the drama to curse and proclaim at our pleasure.We are the tyrants that reigned in the city of mantle and doubletAnd hose; when the gem-crusted baldric that sheltered the dagger was slung’Cross a heart that beat steadfast and calm with a faith most eternally constant.Each of us carols an air that was born of a vision-mad organist,Preaches the infinite word that God whispered to man when his upliftedEyes caught a flash of eternity granted as part of the covenant.Joyful our voices and kind to the heart that is sad with contrition,Bringing a hope in the good that is past with the quieter ages,Soothing humanity’s fears with our message that tells of a future.Harsh and unmeaning and cruel is our song to the souls that are stiffWith a pride that turns faith in the mind to a stone in the heart of the thinker,Blinded by twilight within, which shuts out all sunshine and laughter.Ever unchanging our call, to the winds, the clouds and the rainbow,Rings forth in song at the moments that God as His sentinels ordered;Now we are one with the jet-wingéd night and the cloud-mantled sunrise.”
“We are the keepers of secrets, sighed to us out of the darkness;
Guardians of clandestine loves that will burn past all human remembrance,
Told by our tongues that rejoice in the undying ardor of telling.
Ancient conspiracy ran to our doors, we appointing the hour,
Passed through the arras and knelt for the gesture that spelt absolution,
Forgetting that we spied the drama to curse and proclaim at our pleasure.
We are the tyrants that reigned in the city of mantle and doublet
And hose; when the gem-crusted baldric that sheltered the dagger was slung
’Cross a heart that beat steadfast and calm with a faith most eternally constant.
Each of us carols an air that was born of a vision-mad organist,
Preaches the infinite word that God whispered to man when his uplifted
Eyes caught a flash of eternity granted as part of the covenant.
Joyful our voices and kind to the heart that is sad with contrition,
Bringing a hope in the good that is past with the quieter ages,
Soothing humanity’s fears with our message that tells of a future.
Harsh and unmeaning and cruel is our song to the souls that are stiff
With a pride that turns faith in the mind to a stone in the heart of the thinker,
Blinded by twilight within, which shuts out all sunshine and laughter.
Ever unchanging our call, to the winds, the clouds and the rainbow,
Rings forth in song at the moments that God as His sentinels ordered;
Now we are one with the jet-wingéd night and the cloud-mantled sunrise.”
...
...
“Thus do we call to you,Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages.These be our secrets that charm each new listener back to life’s pagesMen scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind.”
“Thus do we call to you,
Bells of the centuries, mellowed with yearning and joy o’er the ages.
These be our secrets that charm each new listener back to life’s pages
Men scrawled out in blood and carousel, love and the brine of the north wind.”
MORRIS TYLER.
MORRIS TYLER.