Sonnet #300

Once I stood in a market square before the town 

Was ready to wake up, and the cathedral rang her bells

I stopped and listened and waited for the chime and swell

To decay, a gorgeous song, a ritual of sound

That marks a city holy; and when it died away

The pigeons cooed again, returned to rafters,

The windows opened up and all that rattled plaster

of the old city shook loose the night's dust and gray

If the bells ring, and no one is there to hear it...?

If there is someone there, who remembers the bells,

But no bells remain, how will the echo bear it?

To stand in the quiet morning, once, to know, to tell.

I swear upon the empty rooms, all music echoes still

The winds of time will carry all sweet whispers down to still