~ A Passing Bell – David Herbert

Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;

What did you say, my dear?

The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child

Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob

Yes, my love, I hear.

One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving,

Why not let it ring?

The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender, mild

Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb

It is such a little thing!

A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come and look, Yes, it is over now.

Call to him out of the silence, call him to see

The starling shaking its head as it walks in the grass

Ah, who knows how?

He cannot see it,

I can never show it him, how it shook—

Don’t disturb him, darling.

Its head as it walked:

I can never call him to me,

Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.

No, look at the wet starling.