As one who walks upon a windy night,
Through unknown streets, to reach the minster door,
Guides not his footsteps by the gusty light,
But by the clangor that the wild bells pour;
Yet oft he pauses, when in the wind's roar
Some louder echo calls him left or right;
And much he joys when, full of angels bright,
He sees the great rose-window flame before.
So if the wanderer in life's ways attend
To catch the heavenly carillon, above
Its earthly echoes, nature, art, and love;
Then in his ears, as earth's sweet voices end,
The bells sound clearer, and before his eyes
Bright windows open in the darkening skies.