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MILDLY THE SUN.
It speaks like a tocsin tost Up from the surges of time,
Chanting a dirge for the lost, With heavy, unceasing chime.
'Tis thus with surviving hearts, Where passion's billowy swell
Has hung the memory of the past, Like an ever-sounding knell.
That bell, on a distant strand,
Heard mid the ocean's roar—
"Tis a voice from the spirit-land,
A call from eternity's shore. 1846
Mildly now the sun is shining Where I 've seen it shine so oft;
Slowly, radiantly declining,
And the 'winds are low and soft.
Wintry storms, methinks, are dying, Blue and tranquil seems the sky;
Silvery clouds are calmly lying In the broad expanse on high.
Since last winter breath'd her farewell, I have pass'd through scenes most strange;
" O'er the spirit" of my vision There has come a sudden change.