August 20: A Sort of Runic Rhyme

For three long nights refurbished bells have rung,
To gather in the teeming congregation.
Enchanting melodies the choir has sung
Above the thrilling tintinnabulation.

In ninteen ninety-six these bells first tolled,
And then again in ninteen ninety-nine,
Having been cast from a Parisian mold,
They spent a dozen years in redesign.

We postulants shall toil lengthy days
That we might justify the keen promotion
And faith in our spectacular display
Of hope and love and personal devotion.

If these first nights may serve as a predictor,
Heavenly spoils are due unto the Victor.

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