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A book of Bristol sonnets

By H. D. Rawnsley

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ON HEARING BELLS ON EASTER MORNING.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


37

ON HEARING BELLS ON EASTER MORNING.

Gay Bristol Bells, clash out your gladdest peal,
The Lord of Hosts has triumphed wondrously!
Run Avon sparkling down to meet the sea,
And bear the tidings to each wandering keel:
On every bush let buds their lips unseal:
Ye blackbirds shout your psalms from tree to tree;
Captive behold Christ leads captivity;
A life in death His living doth reveal!
How can men's hearts be sad on such a day?
Ye mourners in the City, cease to weep,
The very bells unto our hearts do say,
“A little folding of the hands to sleep.”
Break, heart of stone; roll back sin's heavy gate;
Christ has returned, no more to leave thee desolate.