O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn! br O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn! br br From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted, br Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn! br br Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight, br O'er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn! br br The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland, br Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lynn! br br Over the shining sands the wandering cattle homeward br Follow each other at your call, O Bells of Lynn! br br The distant lighthouse hears, and with his flaming signal br Answers you, passing the watchword on, O Bells of Lynn! br br And down the darkening coast run the tumultuous surges, br And clap their hands, and shout to you, O Bells of Lynn! br br Till from the shuddering sea, with your wild incantations, br Ye summon up the spectral moon, O Bells of Lynn! br br And startled at the sight like the weird woman of Endor, br Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells of Lynn!br br Henry Wadsworth Longfellowbr br