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Edward Dyson - The Church Bells
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The Viennese authorities have melted down 
the great bell in St. Stephen`s to supply metal 
for guns or muntions. Every poor village 
has made a similar gift.—Lokal Anzeiger. 


The great bell booms across the town, 
   Reverberant and slow, 
And drifting from their houses down 
   The calm-eyed people go. 
Their feet fall on the portal stones 
   Their fathers` fathers trod; 
And still the bell, with reverent tones, 
From cottage nooks and purple thrones 
   Is calling souls to God. 

The chapel bells with ardor spake 
   Above the poplars tall, 
And perfumed Sabbath seemed to wake. 
   Responsive to their call 
From dappled vale and green hillside 
   And nestling village hives 
The peasants came in simple pride 
To hear how their Lord Jesus died 
   To sweeten all their lives. 

They boom beyond the battered town; 
   The hills are belching smoke; 
And valleys charred and ranges brown 
   Are quaking `neath the stroke. 
The iron roar to Heaven swells, 
    And domes and steeples nod; 
Through cities vast and ferny dells 
And village streets the clamant bells 
   Are calling souls to God!
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