Katharine Lee Bates
They chime, they chime, the sweet cathedral bells,
Cleaving my cloudy thought, if murkiest cloud
E'er hung so heavy as, on spirit bowed,
This drear confusion weighs. Where is it dwells
My truth of soul? What veil of shifting spells,
Duties unduteous, glamours disallowed,
Myself doth from myself forever shroud?
Once more that silver-throated peal outwells.
Amid the chanting throng I kneel alone,
Mute, dull of heart, yet fain to screen the brow.
Interpret me to Heaven, deep organ tone!