Those Evening Bells.

A poem by Thomas Hood

Those evening bells, those evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells, -
Of Yorkshire cakes and crumpets prime,
And letters only just in time!

The Muffin-boy has passed away,
The Postman gone - and I must pay,
For down below Deaf Mary dwells,
And does not hear those Evening Bells.[1]

And so 'twill be when she is gone,
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
And other maids with timely yells
Forget to stay those Evening Bells.

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