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1762–1850

THE BELLS, OSTEND.

William Lisle Bowles

How sweet the tuneful bells’ responsive peal! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense of pale disease, So piercing to my heart their force I feel!

And hark! with lessening cadence now they fall! And now, along the white and level tide, They fling their melancholy music wide; Bidding me many a tender thought recall

Of summer-days, and those delightful years When from an ancient tower, in life's fair prime, The mournful magic of their mingling chime First waked my wondering childhood into tears!

But seeming now, when all those days are o'er, The sounds of joy once heard, and heard no more.

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THE BELLS, OSTEND. · William Lisle Bowles · Poetry Cove