Of Ave Mary, and Vesper bells,
Be drowned not in the city’s throng!
For—sad and sweet as Dante tells—
Comes, strangely here, the sense to me
Of parting for some unknown clime,
A sense of silence and the sea,
Charmed by the tryst of star and chime.
O bells! O bells! the worlds are buoyed,
Like beacon-bells, on waves profound,
In all no silence as no void—