XXI
When the bell sounds
Over land and sea,
And the wind, in its rounds,
Blowing fresh and free,
Carries the ringing
Far out of sight,
There where the clinging
Sails are white,
White on the sea;
And over the hills.
How far does the sound
Of the sweet bell go?
Over the round
Where the waters flow,
And up to the bound
Where the winds can blow.
Is it lost, is it found,
Is it gone, do you know?