Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. Church BellsWilliam Lisle Bowles (17621850)
(“Written on landing at Ostend, and hearing, very early in the morning, the Carillons”)
H
As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze
Breathes on the trembling sense of wan disease,
So piercing to my heart their force I feel!
And hark! with lessening cadence now they fall,
And now, along the white and level tide,
They fling their melancholy music wide,
Bidding me many a tender thought recall
Of summer days, and those delightful years
When by my native streams, in life’s fair prime,
The mournful magic of their mingling chime
First waked my wondering childhood into tears!
But seeming now, when all those days are o’er,
The sounds of joy once heard, and heard no more!