The paean of the bells brings pain to my ears.
Only Poe would understand my realized fears:
For then, my heart quickens as the beat of a drum
When I realize that mourning never comes.

The lilt of life is, by the bells, accost.
A death, in lieu of life, was the cost,
And the transaction had with it a final sum:
The dawning on me that mourning never comes.

Life, unknown and unseen, flickers out
No matter how much the populace cries and shouts.
Immaterial it is to the powers that make men numb;
They who proclaim that mourning never comes.

The voice of the powers, the bells that dong and ding
Within my ears, doth horribly ring!
They are a prelude to a force that strikes dumb:
That which makes sure the mourning never comes

The power' pulsing paean heralds pain of death:
The ultimatum that steals my final breath.
I've seen it before: For when the bell ends with a hum,
That's when you know your mourning never comes!