Distant Bells
Solitude has no greater revelation. To hear from across meadows, over hills or through valleys, the bells of a village church, chiming muffled, then at the stroke of midnight, at the last moment of the yea4 pealing out in that desperate gaiety which is half-drowned in the grief of distance, is to share in the deepest ritual and mystery of our English countryside. There is hardly one of our poets who has not been com- pelled by this coming together of human consciousness and the genius of time.
Oh Time, that is so prodigal of years, Hold back this moment with restraining hand, That human folk who hear the midnight bells May bring to rest their hurrying hopes and fears, And in that stillness, while the music swells, Read in their hearts, and reading, understand.
Previous page
