The Chimes of St. John's

(The following is a poem by Alan N. Bodle, and is reprinted from “Reflections II”, a collection of local stories available at the Grove City Welcome Center and Museum.)I stepped from the car in the old hometownO a Christmas eve of the long agoSoft through the air the snow came down,And the street was bright with the Christmas glow.The lights burned green and blue and red,Like figments of a fairy dream,The soft snow yielded to the tread,And the Christmas spirit reigned supreme.Sudden along a tranced airCame stealing a wondrous melody;Like angel voices calling to prayerIn softest, sweetest harmony.The clear notes fell in a golden shower,Like falling stars on a snowy sea,As the bells of St John's from their belfry towerPealed forth for the nativity.The lights were flashing all about;The tinsel sparked through the snow.And the soft, sweet voice of the chimes rang outLike the angel chorus of long ago.Many a grave has been made since then,And dampened by showers of bitter tears;And an endless procession of things and menHave drifted by on the tide of the years.But still when the Christmas candles glow,And the earth her snowy mantle dons;My thoughts drift back to the long ago,And memory rings with the Chimes of St John’s.