In a Chicago museum, these small bells of Benin
are bringing their charm to a foreign scene, without ringing.
The concave cylindrical draping of some
is as prim as the poise of a Quaker maid,
while the rare quadrangular forms of the rest,
with their molded latticed designs, suggest
the iron fences, displayed in New Orleans, and everywhere, now.
And who can escape the quaint, spellbound, gargoyle-like bronze faces
that stare from their settings of thin metal lace?
I wish I could obtain one of these bells
or even a facsimile, but the formula
to their deft moldings was lost
and hasn’t been quite rediscovered or found.
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