Bells in the Rain
By Elinor Wylie
Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,
Upon the steep cliffs of the town.
Sleep falls; men are at peace again
While the small drops fall softly down.
The bright drops ring like bells of glass
Thinned by the wind; and lightly blown;
Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass
So softly as it falls on stone.
Peace falls unheeded on the dead
Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;
Upon a live man’s bloody head
It falls most tenderly, I think.
2 comments:
This poem is an unexpected delight. I wonder if you have read any poetry by the American, Mark Doty. His writing is powerful.
I have read Mark's poetry and have even featured him on this blog a few times.
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