Rolling Bells

Outside the sable island surf, Where wisps of wind molest the turf, Hand over hand, the workers draw: They drag the skies from dusk to dawn. High atop the midnight knoll, Watching as the church bells toll, Tortured moonlit souls arise, Sparkling in their cold device. Praying ghosts bring steely stars: This is where the wild one's are. Here the haunts becloud for rain, Feral storms sound streams of pain. Erstwhile torrid beams of light Still resonate through sound and sight. Loud, discordant dames unkempt Twirl and strike in dreams yet dreamt. Shackled by the Devil's smile, Rolling bells ring glass and guile. Within the blade's uncertain stroke A blazing blast brings asps of smoke. Down from heaven, Love must fall If fools should hope to love at all. Oh, great tempest, spoil and spurn; Here, we mortals toil and burn.