That distant chime! As soft it swells,
What memories o'er me steal!
Again I hear the Moscow bells
Across the moorland peal!
The bells that rock the Kremlin tower
Like a strong wind, to and fro,—
Silver-sweet in its topmost bower,
And the thunder's boom below.
They say that oft at Easter dawn
When all the world is fair,
God's angels out of heaven are drawn
To list the music there.
And while the rose-clouds with the breeze
Drift onward,—like a dream,
High in the ether's pearly seas
Their radiant faces gleam.
O when some Merlin with his spells
A new delight would bring,
Say: I will hear the Moscow bells
Across the moorland ring!
The bells that rock the Kremlin tower
Like a strong wind, to and fro,—
Silver-sweet in its topmost bower,
And the thunder's boom below!