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I.

Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ******, ******, ******,
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III.

Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV.

Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
   Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
    All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
  In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
  On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
    They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
         Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
    Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
  To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
  To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
  As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
  Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
 Mar 2021 Ellington Moon
alta mar
like the tide, i will not hush
when your gravity
brings me to tow;

if my facets in movement
blinker too brightly
then like the tide

i feebly reflect
but your own
blinding albedo.
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Sun
She looked at him like he was the sun,
In that she never looked at him,
Except out of frustration.

She complained when he was gone,
But she never looked.

On days he was stronger, she hid from him
On days he was muted, she complained.

She never looked at him until he was leaving,
And in the beauty of the sunset she wondered how,
She'd never seen him before
Found this on Tumblr a while ago, felt I’d share it
 Feb 2021 Ellington Moon
Dahlia
Take me to a world
Where agonies retreat
Where flower petals dance
Around little children's feet

Take me to a world
Where sorrow is forgotten
Where the sun never sets
And clouds glide like cotton

Take me to a world
Where happiness is true
Where everyone is kind
To strangers passing through

Take me to a world
Where stresses are evaded
Where everything is clear
And eyesight's never jaded

Take me to a world
A hidden sweet escape
A place where I can run and hide
A place to save my youth
 Feb 2021 Ellington Moon
Dahlia
It’s rare to find
people who
genuinely
actually
truly

listen
 Jan 2021 Ellington Moon
alta mar
Soft nacred wall of wool,
prismatic in newborn sunrise
—a pillow over the maws of godlings.
Their wet black arms yawn skyward
while they drown in their bed of brack.
 Jan 2021 Ellington Moon
alta mar
Sawtooth skeins
of water candombe in
achroma, winds at
two-five, the water that
hits the roof el contestador
and the water that hits the water
la tumba. The procession leaves limpid
stipples on ***** plex and
renders finches pointilistic;
the peeling periwinkle deckwood
has the dewey quality
of a runway model,
glossed with the bay's blue sploshing.
Beyond this, deeper in the gray:
mountain striates
in harsh gradient,
spring to myrtle to a blueish-reseda,
redwood peak nodes
anchors for erratic heartlines.
The drumbeat pulses these lines
at their mist-vaguened edges
and moves all.
It's a flash, fifteen minutes of
California rain.

— The End —