Classic Poem

Oft, yonder forest's depths within,
Is faintly heard a chiming peal;
None know from whence the sounds begin,
E'en legends scarce the spot reveal.
The church hath passed away, but still
The chimes come softly on the wind;
Once pilgrims would the pathway fill
Which now none knoweth where to find.

The forest's depths I lately sought,
From every track of man retired;
To quit the ills this age hath wrought
And yearn for God, my soul aspired.
Where silence all around was poured,
I heard this pleasant chime again;
The more my aspirations soared,
The nearer, louder seemed the strain.

My soul was so absorbed in dreams,
My mind so ravished by the sound,
That still a mystery it seems
How I such heights of fancy found;
Methought a hundred years had fled
Whilst still I mused in dreamy mood,
When in the parting clouds o'erhead
A sunny opening space I viewed.

The sky was there so deeply blue;
And, 'neath the cloudless sun's full gleam,
A fair cathedral rose to view
All glorious in the golden beam.
Methought light clouds, fringed round with fire,
Like wings, the stately pile upbore,
And lo! its turret's topmost spire
To heaven itself appeared to soar.

The bell's melodious cheerful sound
Rang quivering from the lofty tower;
The rope no human hand drew round,
'Twas moved by some mysterious power.
Methought that impulse strange and strong
Seemed too my beating heart to draw;
The spacious nave I paced along
With tottering step and holy awe.

What felt I in that blest abode
Is past the power of words to paint;
The windows deeply, purely glowed
With forms of many a martyred saint.
Behold! with wondrous glory bright,
Each pictured form awoke to life;
I saw where reigned the saints in light,
Made conquerors in the holy strife.

O'ercome with holy fear and love,
I knelt before the altar fair;
I glanced upon the roof above,
Heav'n's glories were depicted there.
But when I glanced aloft once more,
The vaulted roof asunder flew,
Wide open stood heav'n's golden door,
No veil obscured the dazzling view.

The thousand glorious sights that stirred
My soul with silent rapt amaze,
The sweet melodious sounds I heard,
More sweet than organ's tones of praise;
All these no words have power to tell —
But he that such delights would feel
Must list to that entrancing bell
That in yon wood doth faintly peal.