On Hearing the Full Peal of Ten Bells from Christ Church, Swindon, Wilts.

Your peal of ten ring over then this town,

Ring on my men nor ever ring them down.

This winter chill, let sunset spill cold fire

On villa’d hill and on Sir Gilbert’s spire,

So new, so high, so pure, so broach’d, so tall.

Long run the thunder of the bells through all!

Oh still white headstones on these fields of sound

Hear you the wedding joybells wheeling round?

Oh brick-built breeding boxes of new souls,

Hear how the pealing through the louvres rolls!

Now birth and death-reminding bells ring clear,

Loud under ’planes and over changing gear.