In The Far Forest, Overhead, A Bell Is Often Heard Obscurely; How Long Since First, No One Can Tell-- Nor Can Report Explain It Surely: From The Lost Church, The Rumour Hath, Out On The Winds The Ringing Goeth; Once Full Of Pilgrims Was The Path-- Now Where To Find It, No One Knoweth. Deep In The Wood I Lately Went Where No Foot-Trodden Way Is Lying; From Times Corrupt, On Evil Bent, My Heart To God Went Out In Sighing: There, In The Wild Wood'S Deep Repose, I Heard The Ringing Somewhat Nearer; The Higher That My Longing Rose Its Peal Grew Fuller And Came Clearer. My Thoughts Upon Themselves Did Brood; My Sense Was With The Sound So Busy That I Have Never Understood How I Did Climb That Steep So Dizzy. It Seemed More Than A Hundred Years Had Passed Me Over, Dreaming, Sighing-- When Far Above The Clouds Appears An Open Space In Sunlight Lying. Dark-Blue The Heavens Above It Bowed; The Sun Was Radiant, Large, And Glowing; And, See, A Minister'S Structure Proud Stood In The Rich Light, Golden Showing. The Clouds Around It, Sunny-Clear, Seemed Bearing It Aloft Like Pinions; Its Spire-Point Seemed To Disappear, Slow Vanishing In Heaven'S Dominions. The Bell'S Clear Tones, Of Rapture Full, Boomed In The Tower And Made It Quiver; No Mortal Hand That Rope Did Pull-- A Dumb Storm Made It Swing And Shiver. It Seemed To Heave My Throbbing Breast, That Heavenly Storm With Torrent Blended: With Wavering Step, Yet Hopeful Quest, Into The Church My Way I Wended. What Met Me There As In I Trode With Syllables Cannot Be Painted; Darksome Yet Clear, The Windows Glowed With Forms Of All The Martyrs Sainted. Then Saw I, Radiantly Unfurled, Form Swell To Life And Break Its Barriers; I Looked Abroad Into A World Of Holy Women And God'S Warriors. Down At The Alter I Kneeled Soft, With Love And Prayer My Heart Allegiant: Upon The Ceiling, Far Aloft, Was Painted Heaven'S Resplendent Pageant; But When Again I Lift Mine Eyes, Lo, The High Vault Has Flown Asunder! The Upward Gate Wide Open Lies, And Every Veil Unveils A Wonder. What Gloriousness I Then Beheld With Silent Worship, Speechless Wonder; What Blessed Sounds Upon Me Swelled, Like Organs' And Like Trumpets' Thunder-- No Human Words Could Ever Tell!-- But Who For Such Is Sighing Sorest, Let Him Give Heed Unto The Bell That Dimly Soundeth In The Forest.