Bells of old
Called us to prayer
Rang out in celebration
+
Tolled in sorrow as our
Dead were solemnly
Carried to the churchyard
+
Bells of old
Told us the time
So we could check
Our pocket-watches
+
Adjusting as needed
+
Our rhythms were built
Around the bells of old
High in towers, forged with
Care, dutifully rung by
Strong calloused hands
+
John Donne lay on his sickbed
Assuming he too would be taken
By plague, listening to the bells
Toll for victim after victim
+
Bells tolling exits from this life
Bells bidding: “Rest in Peace”
+
Trumpets resound in fanfares for
Royalty, in concertos for brides
+
And, most noble of all,
To call the dead to life
+
Trumpets bidding “Rise in Glory”
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