He said no word of her to us
Nor we of her to him,
But oh it saddened us to see
How wan he grew and thin.
We said:  she eats him day and night
And draws the blood from him,
We did not know but said we thought
This was why he grew thin.

One day we called and rang the bell
No answer came within,
We said: She must have took him off
To the forest old and grim,
And how can we help him being eaten
Up in forests grim?

It is a restless time we spend,
We have no help from him.
We walk about and go to bed,
It is no help to him.
Sometimes we shake our heads and say
It might have better been
If he had spoke of her to us
Or we of her to him.
Which makes us feel helpful,until
The silence comes again.

Nor We of Her to Him
by Stevie Smith

There is a brass bell in store that sounds a little like paradise’s chime.

The sound of a bell is its soul. This one is worth it.