BELLS of the Past, whose long-forgotten music Still fills the wide expanse, Tingeing the sober twilight of the Present With color of romance: I hear your call, and see the sun descending On rock and wave and sand, As down the coast the Mission voices blending Girdle the heathen land. Within the circle of your incantation No blight nor mildew falls; Nor fierce unrest, nor lust, nor low ambition Passes those airy walls. Borne on the swell of your long waves receding, I touch the farther Past, -- I see the dying glow of Spanish glory, The sunset dream and last! Before me rise the dome-shaped Mission towers, The white Presidio; The swart commander in his leathern jerkin, The priest in stole of snow. Once more I see Portala's cross uplifting Above the setting sun; And past the headland, northward, slowly drifting The freighted galleon. O solemn bells! whose consecrated masses Recall the faith of old, -- O tinkling bells! that lulled with twilight music The spiritual fold! Your voices break and falter in the darkness, -- Break, falter, and are still; And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending, The sun sinks from the hill! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAMON THE MOWER by ANDREW MARVELL TO THE CUCKOO (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A MARTYR'S MASS; FATHER MIGUEL PRO, EXECUTED AY MEXICO CITY, 1927 by ALFRED BARRETT QUATORZAINS: 4. TO SOUND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PEACE QUATRAIN by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN PSALM 7; UPON WORDS OF CHUSH THE BENJAMITE; AUGUST 14, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |