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140
THE CURFEW.
'Mid the sweet voices of the vernal year,Charming and transient as the flowers of May,
The solemn Curfew wandered on its way,
And through a thousand song-birds held mine ear.
It seemed to hail me with vibrations clear
From far off ages, lost in shadows grey,
When England owned the Norman's iron sway,
Which thrills this bell with a forgotten fear.
So mid the pleasant sounds of earth and time,
Which sweetly occupy the fleeting hour,
I catch the cadence of a Heavenly chime:
Full eighteen centuries have felt its power,
As of a bell melodious and sublime,
Fraught not with fear but Love's eternal dower.
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