The Bell Bird.

The one clear note rings out
Making the traveller pause
Enrapt he stands
Most anxious, waits to hear
The liquid sweetness
Fall upon his ear.
There in the grove
Where sweet birds sing
Their ecstasy of love
Like some lone muezzin
From tall minaret
The Bell Bird calls to prayer.
Within the Temple
Decked with giant fern
Devoutness walks
The mysteries to learn
Enthralled by sound
Rich grace the souls discern.
And as a spirit
That would glory share
The silver peal rings forth
Once more to evening prayer
A call to peace
That shuts the door on care.
The soul of music
In one rich tone is heard
Dream we of this,
Or are the senses real
What spirit sings
Which we declare a bird?
What of the body?
Nay! we little care.
The gold of sound
Refined, without alloy;
Perfection's splendid note
Of confidence and joy.
A disembodied spirit
And a dream come true;
For in that high note clear
The great thought comes to view
That what is spiritual
Is ever with us here.

—D. McLarin.