Weldon Kees - The Bell From Europe

The tower bell in the Tenth Street Church <br />Rang out nostalgia for the refugee <br />Who knew the source of bells by sound. <br />We liked it, but in ignorance. <br />One meets authorities on bells infrequently. <br /> <br />Europe alone made bells with such a tone, <br />Herr Mannheim said. The bell <br />Struck midnight, and it shook the room. <br />He had heard bells in Leipzig, Chartres, Berlin, <br />Paris, Vienna, Brussels, Rome. <br />He was a white-faced man with sad enormous eyes. <br /> <br />Reader, for me that bell marked nights <br />Of restless tossing in this narrow bed, <br />The quarrels, the slamming of a door, <br />The kind words, friends for drinks, the books we read, <br />Breakfasts with streets in rain. <br />It rang from europe all the time. <br />That was what Mannheim said. <br /> <br />It is good to know, now that the bell strikes noon. <br />In this day's sun, the hedges are Episcopalian <br />As noon is marked by the twelve iron beats. <br />The rector moves ruminantly among the gravestones, <br />And the sound of a dead Europe hangs in the streets.<br /><br />Weldon Kees<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bell-from-europe/