 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
254
THE VOICE AT EVENTIDE.
Hushed was the music of the Sabbath-bell;The twilight anthem of the birds was still,
Which late they warbled at their own sweet will;
When on mine ear a soothing murmur fell.
Borne on the evening breeze it seemed to swell
And wander fitfully from hill to hill,
And with its gracious harmony to fill
The grassy hollow of the listening dell.
That murmur was “the sound of many waters,”
Fall below fall—more sweet than note of bird,
Or Sabbath chime, or song of loving daughters,
Or any melody by mortals heard:
For it was Nature's symbol of the Voice,
Which when it speaks makes highest heaven rejoice!
| Wood-notes and Church-bells | |