IX. TOLLING BELL.


"Weak, but her spirits good," the letter said:
A bell was tolling, while these words I read,
A dull sepulchral summons for the dead.
Fear grew in every pace I strode
Hurrying on that endless road.

And when I reached the house a terror came
That wrought in me a hidden sense of blame,
And entering I scarce dared to speak her name,
Who lay, sweet singer, warbling low
Rhymes I made her long ago.

"The sun exhales the morning dew,
The dew returns again
At eve refreshing rain:
The forest flowers bloom bravely new,
They drooping fade and die,
The seeds that in them lie
Will blossom as the others blew."

"And ever rove among the flowers
Bright children who ere long
Are men and women strong:
When on they pass through sun and showers,
And glancing sideways watch
Their children run to catch
A rainbow with the laughing Hours."