Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true...
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850
* * *
I like this poem. I like the sentiment.
What's more? I like that this year is over. I'm ready to ring it out.
To do that, I'll be using the cowbell I got for my birthday yesterday. It's painted white, with black lettering that reads "I got a fever..." (I'm guessing y'all know what the prescription is, right?)
No doubt it's just the sort of "wild bell" that Lord Tennyson had in mind.
And so - here's to peace, light, truth. Here's to gentle rhyming. Here's to finding a place and space to each ring our wild bell in the New Year.