Hear the folling 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 meaning 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, tolling, tolling, tolling,

                In that muffled monotone,

        Fell 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 bosom 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.