While, loud with many a clanging bell,
Some annual joy the steeples tell,
And waggons’ groan and drivers’ yell
The loud hubbub and riot swell;
Yet still the stunn’d ear drinks, through all, that liquid song.
And far sinks the tumult,
And takes the soft moan
Of billows that shoreward
Are lapsingly thrown,
When the stars o’er the light-house