'Tis bitter-sweet on winter nights to note,
Beside the palpitating fire reclined,
The chimes, across the fogs, upon the wind.
Now loud, now low, now near and now remote.
What recollections on that music float!
Blessed the bell that through the darkness blind
Sends honest greetings, consolations kind.
And solemn warnings from its lusty throat
Tis like a wakeful soldier, - mine, alas!
The soul-bell in me, can but give one cry,
Like that, a wounded soldier - o'er whom pass
Riders and horses, and around whom lie
The dead and dying in a tangled mass -
Utters, unable or to move or die.
Superb and lovely poem beyond description. Thanks for sharing.
Touching account of the pitiable wounded soldier lying on the battle field amid corpses etc and unable to move. Great poem as also flight of imagery.
Strong worded poem on the subject, Toru dutt write well on it.10
it looks everything happening revolve around that broken bell which every tool is a message. ... brilliant
....a poignant write, alone on a winter's night with painful memories of the past ★
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what more can i say to commemorate you so many years later my dear