Ernest Slyman

Saint Patrick's Cathedral

Sunday morning, 11AM,
How graceful the chimes tumble along the hour,
The silver bell in the cathedral tower
Sings of timeless things---
Such as a hundred generations have achieved,
Calling the glorious names of the bereaved.

I think I hear my father's name said.
And oftentimes the chimes
As they tumble gracefully along the hour
Loosen some queer thought in my head.

I wonder when his life broke
What glorious thing awoke and fled,
What long-fought revolution
Won him over at last before he sped
So merrily off into the past.