Alice Meynell

Chimes

Brief, on a flying night,
    From the shaken tower,
A flock of bells take flight.
    And go with the hour.

Like birds from the cote to the gales,
    Abrupt—O hark!
A fleet of bells set sails,
    And go to the dark.

Sudden the cold airs swing.
    Alone, aloud,
A verse of bells takes wing
    And flies with the cloud.