Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Henry WadsworthLongfellow

201 The Bells of Lynn

O CURFEW of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!

O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn!

From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted,

Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn!

Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight,

O’er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn!

The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland,

Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lynn!

Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward

Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn!

The distant lighthouse hears, and with his flaming signal

Answers you, passing the watchword on, O Bells of Lynn!

And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges,

And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Lynn!

Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations,

Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn!

And startled at the sight, like the weird woman of Endor,

Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells of Lynn!