City Bells

Kneeling by her who is my Heaven, I heard
The clamoring chimes of city churches fill
The mid-May evening, warm and deadly still.
My soul recoiled within me, and recurred
To winter nights, when the black air was stirred
By the same sound, — when she whose perfect will
Is my heart's law, whose touch my soul can thrill.
Was far away, past reach of kiss or word.

So will they sound again, O God, when she
Is far, once more, Black Winter in her stead;
So shall they sound again in Jubilee,
When in some new-born spring our lips are wed;
So shall they sound, through days and nights to be,
When we, at last, our last farewell have said.