THE SWEET BELLS
The sweet bells sound in the mourning which I oft can faintly hear,
Is the echo of the church bells with their sweet song, soft and clear.
I stop among my plodding home through the heavy rain,
listening to the wondrous sound that from, those sweet bells doth ring.
I soon forget that I was weary and the way seems not so long;
those sweet bells always give me more peace than would any song.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Everyday Being Away | 0 | 01/26/2010 |
| “Just Being Me” | 1 | 01/15/2010 |
| THE SWEET BELLS | 0 | 11/29/2009 |
| When You Looked Into My Eyes | 0 | 09/02/2009 |
| When I Die | 0 | 08/20/2009 |
| I Went To War | 0 | 08/19/2009 |
| This My Story Y’all | 0 | 08/16/2009 |
| Wounded For the Wrong Cause | 0 | 08/11/2009 |
| LOVIN ‘ YOU | 0 | 08/11/2009 |
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