Analysis of The Bells

Edgar Allan Poe 1809 (Boston) – 1849 (Baltimore)



Hear the sledges with the bells-
                   Silver bells!
   What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
          How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
              In the icy air of night!
          While the stars that oversprinkle
          All the heavens, seem to twinkle
             With a crystalline delight;
                Keeping time, time, time,
             In a sort of Runic rhyme,
   To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
             From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
                   Bells, bells, bells-
   From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
                   Golden bells!
   What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
          Through the balmy air of night
          How they ring out their delight!
            From the molten-golden notes,
                   And an in tune,
            What a liquid ditty floats
   To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
                   On the moon!
          Oh, from out the sounding cells,
   What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
                   How it swells!
                   How it dwells
            On the Future! how it tells
            Of the rapture that impels
          To the swinging and the ringing
            Of the bells, bells, bells,
          Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
                   Bells, bells, bells-
   To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells-
                   Brazen bells!
   What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
          In the startled ear of night
        How they scream out their affright!
          Too much horrified to speak,
          They can only shriek, shriek,
                   Out of tune,
   In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
   In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
          Leaping higher, higher, higher,
            With a desperate desire,
          And a resolute endeavor,
          Now- now to sit or never,
        By the side of the pale-faced moon.
           Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
           What a tale their terror tells
                   Of Despair!
         How they clang, and clash, and roar!
         What a horror they outpour
       On the bosom of the palpitating air!
           Yet the ear it fully knows,
                   By the twanging,
                   And the clanging,
           How the danger ebbs and flows:
           Yet the ear distinctly tells,
                   In the jangling,
                   And the wrangling,
           How the danger sinks and swells,
   By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
                   Of the bells-
           Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
                 Bells, bells, bells-
      In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells-
                   Iron Bells!
   What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
          In the silence of the night,
          How we shiver with affright
     At the melancholy menace of their tone!
          For every sound that floats
          From the rust within their throats
                    Is a groan.
          And the people- ah, the people-
          They that dwell up in the steeple,
                   All Alone
          And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
            In that muffled monotone,
          Feel a glory in so rolling
            On the human heart a stone-
          They are neither man nor woman-
          They are neither brute nor human-
                   They are Ghouls:
            And their king it is who tolls;
            And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
                   Rolls
              A paean from the bells!
          And his merry bosom swells
            With the paean of the bells!
          And he dances, and he yells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
            To the paean of the bells-
                   Of the bells:
          Keeping time, time, time,
          In a sort of Runic rhyme,
            To the throbbing of the bells-
          Of the bells, bells, bells-
            To the sobbing of the bells;
          Keeping time, time, time,
            As he knells, knells, knells,


Scheme aaabcbbcDDaaAa aaaccefeefaaaaaagAAAa aaacchhfiiiiiifaajkkjlgglaggaaAAAa aaaccmeembbmgmgmnnxoooaaaaDDaADDaAaDa
Poetic Form
Metre 101101 101 1011111001 11101010 0010111 10111 10101110 101001 10111 001111 101111001 101111 111 10100100101 1010101 101 101110011001 1010111 1111101 1010101 0101 1010101 10101110111 101 1110101 101110011 111 111 1010111 101011 10100010 10111 10111 111 1010001101 10111 101 1011101111 0010111 111111 111011 111011 111 00101010101010 001110101010 10101010 1010010 0010010 1111110 10110111 10111 1011101 101 1110101 101011 10101010001 1011101 101 0010 1010101 1010101 001 00100 1010101 101010100010101 101 10111 111 0010001101 1010101 101 10111011101 0010101 111011 1010010111 1100111 1010111 101 00101010 11110010 101 01101010 011010 10100110 1010101 11101110 11101110 111 0111111 01111 1 010101 0110101 1010101 0110011 10111 001111 1010101 101 10111 001111 1010101 10111 1010101 10111 11111
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 4,298
Words 567
Sentences 28
Stanzas 4
Stanza Lengths 14, 21, 34, 37
Lines Amount 106
Letters per line (avg) 23
Words per line (avg) 5
Letters per stanza (avg) 599
Words per stanza (avg) 140
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on May 03, 2023

2:50 min read
3,890

Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was an American author, poet, editor, and literary critic, considered part of the American Romantic Movement. Poe is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. more…

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