Bell26 - with spring

Simple good made-in-Japan bell with a coil spring trigger. Medium-loud, fits on any handlebar or stem quill, even a pump...as long as those things are between 22.2mm and 26mm in diameter, and they usually are. The shiny brass mellows quickly and beautifully in the weather. ------ The Bells Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) I.         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!         While the stars that oversprinkle         All the heavens, seem to twinkle            With a crystalline delight;          Keeping time, time, time,          In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells        From the bells, bells, bells, bells,                Bells, bells, bells—   From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II.         Hear the mellow wedding bells,                  Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!         Through the balmy air of night         How they ring out their delight!            From the molten-golden notes,                And all in tune,            What a liquid ditty floats     To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats                On the moon!          Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!                How it swells!                How it dwells            On the Future! how it tells            Of the rapture that impels          To the swinging and the ringing            Of the bells, bells, bells,          Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,                Bells, bells, bells—   To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III.          Hear the loud alarum bells—                  Brazen bells! What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!        In the startled ear of night        How they scream out their affright!          Too much horrified to speak,          They can only shriek, shriek,                   Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,             Leaping higher, higher, higher,             With a desperate desire,          And a resolute endeavor          Now—now to sit or never,        By the side of the pale-faced moon.             Oh, the bells, bells, bells!             What a tale their terror tells                   Of Despair!        How they clang, and clash, and roar!        What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air!        Yet the ear it fully knows,             By the twanging,             And the clanging,          How the danger ebbs and flows;        Yet the ear distinctly tells,             In the jangling,             And the wrangling.        How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—              Of the bells—      Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,             Bells, bells, bells—  In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! IV.           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!         For every sound that floats         From the rust within their throats                  Is a groan.         And the people—ah, the people—        They that dwell up in the steeple,                  All alone,         And who tolling, tolling, tolling,           In that muffled monotone,          Feel a glory in so rolling           On the human heart a stone—      They are neither man nor woman—      They are neither brute nor human—               They are Ghouls:         And their king it is who tolls;         And he rolls, rolls, rolls,                     Rolls              A pæan from the bells!           And his merry bosom swells              With the pæan of the bells!           And he dances, and he yells;           Keeping time, time, time,           In a sort of Runic rhyme,              To the pæan of the bells—                Of the bells:           Keeping time, time, time,           In a sort of Runic rhyme,             To the throbbing of the bells—           Of the bells, bells, bells—             To the sobbing of the bells;           Keeping time, time, time,             As he knells, knells, knells,           In a happy Runic rhyme,             To the rolling of the bells—           Of the bells, bells, bells—             To the tolling of the bells,       Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—               Bells, bells, bells—   To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.