When oer the street the morning peal is flung From yon tall belfry with the brazen tongue, Its wide vibrations, wafted by the gale, To each far listener tell a different tale. Holmes.The Bells.
Those dumb mouths that have no speech, Only a cry from each to each, In its own kind, with its own laws; Something that is beyond the reach Of human power to learn or teach, An inarticulate moan of pain, Like the immeasurable main Breaking upon an unknown beach. Longfellow.Tales of a Wayside Inn: The Bell of Atri, Interlude, Line 2.