Volume 2 — THE BELLS OF CHRISTMAS.

O bells that madly toll to-night, What is the meaning of your note? Is disappointment or delight The burden of each brazen throat? And what the words my weary brain Discovers in your vague refrain? From the high casement of my room I watch the world below asleep; While from the belfries clothed in gloom The clangor rolls from deep to deep, Repeating, as afar 'tis flung, A lesson from an unknown tongue. O music that eludes the soul,— Like that sweet sea which vexed the thirst Of Tantalus, but never stole Across his fevered lips accursed,— Unfold your mysteries to-night, Your misty meaning and your might. It surging sweeps upon the air. Besides the clamor of the bells Are echoing strains from everywhere, Past, present, future. How it swells Into an endless sea which roars And moans on lonely rock-bound shores! Hoarse, hollow echoes from dead years Of that which I have thought and done— The discords of past sin and tears Through e'en your fairest measures run. Alas! when will those discords cease? Does sorrow never lead to peace? Chords of the present clash and jar As though each note would never end; Yet as their rhythms die afar, They slowly unto beauty blend, And the last cadence fades away As fades a perfect summer day. O vibrant strains of the to-be, With promise pregnant and with hope, You are a glad epitome Of the hereafter's power and scope; Yet 'neath your softest note appears The thunder-march of coming years. Ring, Christmas bells! The past is dead, E'en though its requiem never die, And God His endless love has spread Upon the scenes that round us lie. Ring loudly to the midnight air That Love and Hope have slain Despair. Ring out, O bells! The world is wide, And Goodness sits upon a throne. Ring out upon the Christmas-tide That God will not forget His own, And that on all, from far above, Descends His never-failing love. William E. S. Fales.