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The bird and the bell, with other poems | ||
LIII.
The music of the soul can ne'er be mute.What though the brazen clang of antique form
Stop for a hundred years the angel's lute,
The angel smiles, and when the deafening storm
Has pealed along the ages, with the warm
Touch the immortals own, he sings again,
Clearer and sweeter, like the sunshine after rain.
The bird and the bell, with other poems | ||