A man recalls that when the Presbyterian bell rang alone, he knew it instantly. But when Methodist, Christian, Baptist, and Congregational bells all sounded at once, the tones blended until no single bell could be identified. He uses that memory to explain his life. Many voices called to him—ideas, faiths, people—and he could not tell which were true and which were false. In the end, he even failed to recognize the one voice he should have known. There is regret here, but it is quiet rather than dramatic. The speaker does not rage at the world for confusing him; he simply admits his own failure. The mood is melancholy and reflective, like someone standing outside his own past, hearing all those sounds again and realizing how much he missed.
J. Milton Miles — Summary
Whenever the Presbyterian bell Was rung by itself, I knew it as the Presbyterian bell. But when its sound was mingled With the sound of the Methodist, the Christian, The Baptist and the Congregational, I could no longer distinguish it, Nor any one from the others, or either of them. And as many voices called to me in life Marvel not that I could not tell The true from the false, Nor even, at last, the voice that I should have known.