Elinor Wylie’s speaker lies in bed at five o’clock, hearing the ordinary early-morning world—a bird, a barking dog, a crowing cock—around the tolling church bell. But the bell quickly stops sounding like a normal bell. To the speaker, it seems to go mad, as if a hand from the dark sky pulls the rope and the bell itself begins to shout: “Look! Lift up your eyes!... Be strong and proud!... Be brave!” The clapper laughs, and the bell’s voice grows loud and sweet, drowning out the noise of market carts and feet. The speaker feels caught up in a strange, ecstatic, almost defiant energy—alarmed but also thrilled by the bell’s call. The final image is violent and sad: people tear out the bell’s “living tongue,” silencing that wild, brave voice forever. The mood shifts from cold, ordinary dawn to surreal exaltation, then to loss.
The Church-Bell — Summary
As I was lying in my bed I heard the church-bell ring; Before one solemn word was said A bird began to sing.
I heard a dog begin to bark And a bold crowing cock; The bell, between the cold and dark, Tolled. It was five o'clock.
The church-bell tolled, and the bird sang, A clear true voice he had; The cock crew, and the church-bell rang, I knew it had gone mad.
A hand reached down from the dark skies, It took the bell-rope thong, The bell cried "Look! Lift up your eyes!" The clapper shook to song.
The iron clapper laughed aloud, Like clashing wind and wave; The bell cried out "Be strong and proud!" Then, with a shout, "Be brave!"
The rumbling of the market-carts, The pounding of men's feet Were drowned in song; "Lift up your hearts!" The sound was loud and sweet.
Slow and slow the great bell swung, It hung in the steeple mute; And people tore its living tongue Out by the very root.