BELLS IN THE RAIN

Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,

Upon the steep cliffs of the town.

Sleep falls; men are at peace again

Awhile the small drops fall softly down.

The bright drops ring like bells of glass

Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown;

Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass

So softly as it falls on stone.

Peace falls unheeded on the dead

Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;

Upon a live man's bloody head

It falls most tenderly, I think.