  I used to hear them faintly Those evening bells for prayer, Across the fields of Tilney, Beyond the sunset's glare. I heard them in my childhood, Those bells of Timberland, When I was always happy, Holding my father's hand. Enchanted in the distance, They rode upon the air, Seeming to float from Heaven; I knew not how nor where. All through life's dusty pathway, I heard those bells ring out, A chiming in the distance, That sung, my path about. My father—how I miss him— Lies in the churchyard there, He takes my hand no longer He knows not how I fare. But I would give up everything To hold again his hand, And hear across the meadows The bells of Timberland. |
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