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THOSE EVENING BELLS.
" Those evening bells—those evening* bells! How many a tale their music tells!" T. Mooee.
O'er the blue waves of Shannon's peaceful stream,
A stranger came at close of summer day ; And saw the turrets of the city gleam
Like burnish'd gold in the clear sunset's ray.
Mild were the glorious skies that arch'd above, And soft the whisp'ring of the gentle air,
And bright the verdure of the shore and grove, For Summer's perfumed hand was resting there.
O'er the lone wand'rer came a ray of bliss, For he was from Italia's sunlit plains,
And thoughts of home stole o'er his loneliness, Thoughts of its storied vaults, and ivied fanes.
He sat with thoughtful brow and head reclined, In listless silence musing o'er the past;
But hark!—those evening bells in solemn chime, Peal to his ear, and startle him at last!
He trembled as if something moved his soul, Then, leaning backward, motionless he lay;
Before the light-sped vessel reach'd its goal, The lonely wand'rer's spirit pass'd away.