The Intercession

ASK the brazen bells now dumb
Whether these softer sounds,
Soft as shadows in a carving,
Whether they can reach the starving
And the lost beyond the bounds
Where echoes never come.

How many men at last have lain
Like birds that die, who seem
Unprotected, unprotested,
In the woods where they have nested
And hear no murmur to redeem
Millenniums of pain.