Classic Poem

O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!
O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn!
II
From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted,
Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn!
III
Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight,
O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn!
IV
The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland,
Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lynn!
V
Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward
Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn!
VI
The distant lighthouse hears, and with his flaming signal
Answers you, passing the watchword on, O Bells of Lynn!
VII
And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges,
And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Lynn!
VIII
Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations,
Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn!
IX
And startled at the sight like the weird woman of Endor,
Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells of Lynn!