Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — The Bells of San Blas

What say the Bells of San Blas To the ships that southward pass        &nbsp From the harbor of Mazatlan? To them it is nothing more Than the sound of surf on the shore,—        &nbsp Nothing more to master or man. But to me, a dreamer of dreams, To whom what is and what seems        &nbsp Are often one and the same,— The Bells of San Blas to me Have a strange, wild melody,        &nbsp And are something more than a name. For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search        &nbsp The hearts of young and old; One sound to all, yet each Lends a meaning to their speech,        &nbsp And the meaning is manifold. They are a voice of the Past, Of an age that is fading fast,        &nbsp Of a power austere and grand, When the flag of Spain unfurled Its folds o'er this western world,        &nbsp And the Priest was lord of the land. The chapel that once looked down On the little seaport town        &nbsp Has crumbled into the dust; And on oaken beams below The bells swing to and fro,        &nbsp And are green with mould and rust. "Is, then, the old faith dead," They say, "and in its stead        &nbsp Is some new faith proclaimed, That we are forced to remain Naked to sun and rain,        &nbsp Unsheltered and ashamed? "Once, in our tower aloof, We rang over wall and roof        &nbsp Our warnings and our complaints; And round about us there The white doves filled the air,        &nbsp Like the white souls of the saints. "The saints! Ah, have they grown Forgetful of their own?        &nbsp Are they asleep, or dead, That open to the sky Their ruined Missions lie,        &nbsp No longer tenanted? "Oh, bring us back once more The vanished days of yore,        &nbsp When the world with faith was filled; Bring back the fervid zeal, The hearts of fire and steel,        &nbsp The hands that believe and build. "Then from our tower again We will send over land and main        &nbsp Our voices of command, Like exiled kings who return To their thrones, and the people learn        &nbsp That the Priest is lord of the land!" O Bells of San Blas in vain Ye call back the Past again;        &nbsp The Past is deaf to your prayer! Out of the shadows of night The world rolls into light;        &nbsp It is daybreak everywhere.