The Bell

The Bell Encased in the grime of the tower A perch for birds at play Waiting to show its power A voice at the end of the day Clear in the still night air Ageless songs are heard Its message is laid bare It says not a word Both a servant and master Revered by those who know Brings sorrow and laughter It swings both fast and slow Burned in a forge of fire Poured like the blood of hell Lifted to its heavenly spire Deep throated is the bell.