Bells

From far away! from far away!

But whence you will not say,

Melancholy bells, appealing chimes,

Voices of lands and times!

Your toll, O melancholy bells!

Over the valley swells;

O touching chimes! your dying sighs

Travel our tranquil skies.

But whence?  And whither fade away

Your echoes from our day?

You take our hearts with gentle pain

Tremble and pass again.

Could we lay hold upon your haunts,

The birthplace of your chaunts;

Were we in dreamland, deathland, then?

We, sad and wondering men?

-       Lionel Johnson[1]

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[1] See footnote 1 in "To Master Robert Herrick: Upon His Death" posting for a biographical sketch of Lionel Johnson.