poe wrote this poem about the church bells of fordham university in the bronx in 1845 one hundred and twenty four years later hip hop was born three miles away from that very spot hear the sledges with the bells silver bells what a world of merriment their melody foretells how they tinkle tinkle tinkle in the icy air of night with the stars that over sprinkle with a crystalline delight keeping time time time in a sort of runic rhyme to the tintinnabulation resonating very fine from the jingling and twinkling of the mellow wedding bells golden bells what a world of happiness we know they must foretell through the balmy air of night how they ring out their delight from the molten golden notes all in tune hella tight while a liquid ditty floats on the moon from sounding cells what a gush of euphony voluminously wells how it swells how it dwells on the future how it tells to the swinging and the ringing of the rapture that impels of the bells bells bells check the bells bells bells go to sleep to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells rock the bells hear the loud alarm bells brazen bells what a tale of terror now their turbulency tells in the startled ear of night how they scream out their affright too horrified to speak only shriek and ignite in a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire leaping higher higher higher with a deep desperate desire and a resolute endeavor that accentuates the pyre and how now to sit or never by the side of the moon oh the bells bells bells know that terror s coming soon how they clang and they roar what a horror they out pour on the bosom of the air with eternity in store how the danger ebbs and flows with the twanging and the clanging yet the ear distinctly tells in the jangling and the wrangling how the danger sinks and swells in the anger of the bells of the bells go to sleep to the clamor and the clanging of the bells hear the tolling of the bells iron bells what a world of solemn thought their monody compels in the silence of the night how we shiver with affright at the melancholy menace of their tone it excites hear it float like the rust within our throats it s a groan and the people all the people in the steeple all alone and who tolling tolling tolling in that muffled monotone feel a glory in so rolling on the human heart of stone because they are neither man nor woman neither brute nor human the grim reaper is king while he rolls and he rules a paean from the bells as his merry bosom swells with the paean of the bells as he dances with the fools keeping time time time in a sort of runic rhyme to the paean of the bells to the throbbing of the bells keeping time time time as he knells knells knells go to sleep to the moaning and the groaning of the bells