The lost chimes, and other poems

In Short

This volume is a diverse gathering of poetry that reflects the transition of the American consciousness during the early twentieth century. It balances personal grief, historical reflection, and the profound, shifting landscapes of the Minnesota plains and the Rocky Mountains. Through rhythmic, often elegiac verse, the collection explores how the individual soul grapples with the weight of time, the ravages of global conflict, and the enduring hope for spiritual clarity. It remains a poignant record of a voice attempting to harmonize modern anxieties with the timeless structures of nature and faith.

The Story

The collection begins with a central narrative poem, "The Lost Chimes," which sets the tone for the entire work. It recounts the obsession of a character named Sordino, who seeks to create a set of bells of perfect tone, representing a pursuit of the absolute amid a world of decay and conflict. Sordino’s quest is interrupted by the harsh reality of war—a theme that permeates the book—as his city is besieged and his chimes are seized by a conquering force. This loss serves as a metaphor for the vulnerability of art and beauty when confronted by the "Hell’s very incarnation" of war. Sordino’s journey, however, does not end in despair; it becomes an internal pilgrimage. He finds himself wandering through London, observing the suffering of the common man and the cruelty of history, eventually reaching a state of spiritual surrender and awakening.

Following this narrative, the book broadens into a series of elegies and thematic sections. We encounter a deeply personal layer of loss, touching upon the death of the poet’s father and the mournful rituals of child-burials on Christmas Eve. These poems are not merely expressions of sorrow; they are attempts to reconcile the presence of death with the "Great 'I Am'"—the belief in a divine order that persists despite earthly tragedy. The scope then shifts toward a critique of the modern world, specifically the "sacrilegious age" where once-sacred spaces, like country churches, are turned into mundane marketplaces.

The latter half of the book acts as a panoramic travelogue, grounded in the American Midwest and the Pacific Northwest. Here, the poet encounters the majesty of Mount Shasta and the expansive stillness of Clearwater Lake, using these landscapes as mirrors for his own internal state. The collection concludes with a return to classicism and philosophy, featuring sonnets that contemplate historical figures like Voltaire and the legendary Epimenides. The arc is thus one of descent—from the high, clanging ambition of the chimes—through the "gloomy vale" of war and personal bereavement, and finally toward a quiet, contemplative acceptance of the natural world and the promise of a "truer life’s beginning." It is a movement from the noise of the world to the silence of the soul, where the poet finds peace in the simple beauty of an olive branch or a child’s laughter.

How It Unfolds

The quest for perfection The book opens with Sordino’s intense, singular drive to forge a set of chimes with a tone as clear as an Italian sky. This ambition marks the beginning of a life devoted to achieving the absolute, setting a standard of artistry that defies the "mechanic rule" of lesser critics.

The descent of conflict The narrative is violently interrupted when war consumes Sordino’s city, stripping him of his masterwork and forcing him into a life of wandering. This transition introduces the reader to the poet’s persistent preoccupation with how greed and hatred dismantle the structures of human accomplishment.

The search for meaning in the city Sordino haunts the streets of London, experiencing the isolation of the foreigner while witnessing the cruelty of history, including the execution of the innocent. In these alleys and taverns, the search for the lost bells transforms into a search for spiritual redemption.

The landscape as an anchor The focus shifts to the natural world of the American prairies and mountains, where the poet finds a reflection of divine order. These poems serve as a meditative relief, contrasting the "wimpling Thames" and the "stormy fugues" of human emotion with the stable, enduring beauty of the landscape.

The final reconciliation In the concluding sections, the poet reaches a state of quiet resignation, moving away from grand narratives toward small, intimate observations of children and goldfish. The book ends by framing life as a "pilgrim’s journey," where the final reward is not the perfection of the chimes, but the humble peace found in faith.

The People

The book is populated by figures who exist more as archetypes of the soul’s condition than as typical literary characters. Sordino, the central figure of the opening narrative, represents the artist’s struggle to find beauty in a world that is essentially hostile to it. He begins as a man obsessed with the external—the "perfect tone" of bronze and silver—but is stripped of his possessions so that he may cultivate his internal life.

Then there is the figure of the "Doleful Mother," a representative of universal grief, whose sorrow mirrors the poet’s own mourning for his father and the loss of children. She represents the persistence of love in the face of destruction. Opposite these figures of sorrow are the "learned critics," the "knocker," and the "modern merchant," all of whom represent the encroaching coldness of the industrial age. They stand in the way of the poet’s vision, representing the "vulgar throng" that cannot hear the music of the spheres.

Finally, there are the historical and legendary figures—Shakespeare, Hugo, and Epimenides—who act as mentors to the poet. They are invoked not just for their fame, but because they understood how to bridge the gap between the mundane and the eternal. By the end of the journey, even the "quondam monk" and the "faithful lad" emerge as symbols of continuity, proving that the poet’s work, like the chime’s music, survives through the legacy left to those who follow.

In Its Own Voice

"Count not the cost, a thousand more or less / Is not the question, but a perfect tone, / A clang as clear as the Italian sky."

The opening lines establish the high, uncompromising standard Sordino sets for his masterpiece.

"O, heinous War, Hell’s very incarnation! / Whose countenance is black with darkest hate."

This exclamation reflects the poet’s visceral reaction to the global conflicts occurring during the time of the book’s composition.

"I’m a Part of the Wind and the Curling Wave."

This line captures the poet’s ultimate desire to dissolve the boundaries between his own spirit and the natural world he observes.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the reconciliation of beauty with the inevitability of loss. The poet asks whether human endeavor—be it the casting of a bell, the writing of a poem, or the building of a nation—has any lasting significance in a world defined by the "Dies Irae" or day of wrath. The argument is that while physical structures and worldly ambitions are doomed to be "looted" or forgotten, the "Freedom of the soul" is the only true constant. The book functions as a meditation on the tension between the "prosaic age" and the eternal, suggesting that one finds meaning only by turning inward to the "solitudes of woods and mountains," where the divine voice becomes audible.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the nineteenth-century tradition of lyrical, didactic verse will find much to admire here. There is a profound, old-fashioned warmth in the poet’s observations of children, goldfish, and sunsets that feels like a reprieve from the frenetic pace of contemporary life. However, modern readers should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes regarding war and gender, as well as a heavy reliance on classical allusions that require a degree of patience to unpack.

The language can be formal and occasionally ornate, reflecting the "grandeur" the poet so clearly admires in Shakespeare and Hugo. It is not a book for those seeking modern irony or spare, minimalist prose; it is, rather, for the reader who wants to spend time with a mind that is constantly looking for the "better ways" of the spirit. What stays with you is the quiet insistence that even in an age of "shrapnel’s shrieks," there is a possibility for peace. It feels like a long, meditative walk through a landscape that is simultaneously local—Minnesota lakes and prairies—and universal, grounded in the deep, melancholy music of the human heart.