The Bells of Shandon

From The Birmingham Age Herald, September 2, 1913. By Francis Mahoney.

With deep affection,
And recollection,
I often think of
    Those Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle
    Their magic spells.
On this I ponder
Where’er I wander,
And thus grow fonder,
    Sweet Cork, of thee;
With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters
    Of the River Lee.

I’ve heard bells chiming
Full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in
    Cathedral shrine,
While at a glib rate
Brass tongues would vibrate—
But all their music
    Spoke naught like thine;
For memory, dwelling
On each proud swelling
Of the belfry knelling
    Its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters
    Of the River Lee.

I’ve heard bells tolling
Old Adrian’s Mole in,
Their thunder rolling
    From the Vatican,
And cymbals glorious
Swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets
    Of Notre Dame;
But thy sounds were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter
Flings o’er the Tiber,
    Pealing solemnly—
O the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters
    Of the River Lee.

There’s a bell in Moscow,
While on the tower and kiosk O
In Saint Sophia
    The Turkman gets,
And loud in air
Calls men to prayer
From tapering summits
    Of tall minarets.
Such empty phantom
I freely grant them;
But there’s an anthem
    More dear to me—
’Tis the bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters
    Of the River Lee.