What say the Bells of San Blas
To the ships that southward pass
       &nbsp From the harbor of Mazatlan?
To them it is nothing more
Than the sound of surf on the shore,—
       &nbsp Nothing more to master or man.

But to me, a dreamer of dreams,
To whom what is and what seems
       &nbsp Are often one and the same,—
The Bells of San Blas to me
Have a strange, wild melody,
       &nbsp And are something more than a name.

For bells are the voice of the church;
They have tones that touch and search
       &nbsp The hearts of young and old;
One sound to all, yet each
Lends a meaning to their speech,
       &nbsp And the meaning is manifold.

They are a voice of the Past,
Of an age that is fading fast,
       &nbsp Of a power austere and grand,
When the flag of Spain unfurled
Its folds o'er this western world,
       &nbsp And the Priest was lord of the land.
The chapel that once looked down
On the little seaport town
       &nbsp Has crumbled into the dust;
And on oaken beams below
The bells swing to and fro,
       &nbsp And are green with mould and rust.

"Is, then, the old faith dead,"
They say, "and in its stead
       &nbsp Is some new faith proclaimed,
That we are forced to remain
Naked to sun and rain,
       &nbsp Unsheltered and ashamed?

"Once, in our tower aloof,
We rang over wall and roof
       &nbsp Our warnings and our complaints;
And round about us there
The white doves filled the air,
       &nbsp Like the white souls of the saints.

"The saints! Ah, have they grown
Forgetful of their own?
       &nbsp Are they asleep, or dead,
That open to the sky
Their ruined Missions lie,
       &nbsp No longer tenanted?
"Oh, bring us back once more
The vanished days of yore,
       &nbsp When the world with faith was filled;
Bring back the fervid zeal,
The hearts of fire and steel,
       &nbsp The hands that believe and build.

"Then from our tower again
We will send over land and main
       &nbsp Our voices of command,
Like exiled kings who return
To their thrones, and the people learn
       &nbsp That the Priest is lord of the land!"

O Bells of San Blas in vain
Ye call back the Past again;
       &nbsp The Past is deaf to your prayer!
Out of the shadows of night
The world rolls into light;
       &nbsp It is daybreak everywhere.