“The Bells” by Edgar Allan Poe is one of his more well-known poems, after masterpieces like “The Raven”, of course. “The Bells” is most often interpreted as an allegory for the seasons of life, from the beautiful silver bells of youth to the frightening iron church bells that toll old age and death.
The alarms are ringing in the field tonight I can’t see where it’s coming from; I jump with fright. I look out the window, lightning flashing in the sky, I know we need to get to the cellar before the winds scream by.
I run to the hall, my parents are pulling on their robes, I grab the dog and cat, we have to keep up hope. The worst of it will pass, this time it won’t hit us, We pull open the root cellar door and descend into the abyss.
The crash and roar of a freight train is overhead, The door is banging like it might not hold; we’re filled with dread. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Crash! Roar! The wind moans, The wood of the cellar door groans.
The alarm is still whining, but the world is quiet. We cautiously open the door and look out. Our house is still standing, our car is okay, The tornado spared our house for another day.