by Phyllis Beebe
Quiet they hang when the wind doesn't blow
Unmoving, not making a sound.
When stir'd by a breeze
They let the world know
Just why they've been "hanging around".
They will tinkle so soft
When a gentle wind comes
But if it should blow up a gale
They'll ring out like bells
Or the big kettle drums
Till they're heard over hill and through dale.