Past craggy bluffs, formed by the sea, above the hills that roll so gently, the morning sun is rising up with the bells of San Clemente. The veil of early morning mist surrounds each greening shrub and tree, and brings the rising surf in tune with the bells of San Clemente. There, Catalina Isle ascends; her dark form waves enchantingly across the blue, as though in dance with the bells of San Clemente. Far past the pier white seagulls fly, adorning a mild-weathered sea, just gliding, sailing, in accord with the bells of San Clemente. The crowning glory of each day comes when the sun drops quietly and weaves all earth and sky in song with the bells of San Clemente. |