Tolling

TOLLING, tolling, tolling!All the bells of the land!Lo! the patriot martyrTaketh his journey grand;Travels into the ages,Bearing a hope how dear!Into life's unknown vistas,Liberty's great pioneer.

Tolling, tolling, tolling!Do the budded violets knowThe pain of the lingering clangorShaking their bloom out so?They open into strange sorrow,The rain of a nation's tears;Into the saddest AprilTwined with the New World's years.

Tolling, tolling, tolling!See, they come as a cloud,—Hearts of a mighty people,Bearing his pall and shroud!Lifting up, like a banner,Signals of loss and woe!Wonder of breathless nations,Moveth the solemn show.

Tolling, tolling, tolling!Was it, O man beloved,—Was it thy funeral only,Over the land that moved?—Veiled by that hour of anguish,Borne with the Rebel rout,Forth into utter darkness,Slavery's corse went out.