THE BELLS

There’s the ringing of the bell,

The doorbell;

I must go to find out

what this fellow has to sell;

Or it is the tot next door,

With her sister and four more,

Ringing, pounding on the door;

No, a van is at the gate—

“Yes, this house is 308,

But my name is not McGuire

And I did not buy a dryer.”

Now again I take my pen,

and blot the puddle where it fell—

There’s the ringing of the bell,

The doorbell,

The pestilential, residential

ringing of the bell.

There’s the ringing of the bell

The phone bell

Dutifully I answer it,

although I know quite well,

Telephone communication

Has its ground for installation

In the endless conversation

Of the younger generation.

All the latest parent polls

Show beyond doubt

Just for whom the Bell tolls

Must be paid out.

“Hello, this is Eutychus

A moment please. O Sue!

Kathy on the telephone;

She would like to speak with you.”

As I close the study door

So that Sue can be alone

I know that for an hour or more

She has quieted the phone,

Stopped the ringing of the bell,

The phone bell,

The electronic, un-Poe-etic

ringing of the bell.

There’s the ringing of the bell,

Alarm clock bell.

What a warm and dreamy haze

it riots to dispel!

And the trauma it inflicts

When I find it’s half past six!

Someone set it, what a crime,

A quarter hour ahead of time.

Now the phone is ringing, too.

“O, yes, pastor, so it’s you.

Yes, I am an early riser,

Though I think it might be wiser

To remain in bed. O, yes.

I can make those calls, I guess;

Phone my friends about the meeting,

Push some doorbells with our greeting.

Yes, the church that rings the bell,

Rings the bells,

Rings doorbells, phone bells,

church bells, bells.”

EUTYCHUS

THE ELECTION

In my opinion the decision just made by the American electorate will be revealed by the long perspective of history, to be as fateful ...

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