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From the molten-golden notes,

And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells

What a gush of euphony voluminously wells

How it swells!

How it dwells

On the Future! how it tells

Of the rapture that impels

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To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells

Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!

In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,

They can only shriek, shriek,

Out of tune,

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,

In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,

Leaping higher, higher, higher,

With a desperate desire

Now-now to sit or never

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And a resolute endeavour

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How the danger ebbs and flows;

Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling

And the wrangling,

How the danger sinks and swells,

By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells,

Of the bells

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells

In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells

Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!

In the silence of the night

How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

Is a groan.

And the people-ah, the people

They that dwell up in the steeple,

All alone,

And who tolling, tolling, tolling,

In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone

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They are neither man nor woman

They are neither brute nor human

They are Ghouls:

And their king it is who tolls;

And he rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells

With the pæan of the bells,
And he dances and he yells,

Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pean of the bells,
Of the bells;

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Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells—

To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

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1848-49.

1849.

ANNABEL LEE

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea;

But we loved with a love that was more than love

I and my ANNABEL LEE—

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

ΙΟ

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1849.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

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But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-

Of many far wiser than we;

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE:

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride,

In the sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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1849.

ELDORADO

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old—

This knight so bold,

And o'er his heart a shadow

Fell as he found

No spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

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ΤΟ

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow.
"Shadow," said he,

"Where can it be-
This land of Eldorado ?"

"Over the Mountains

Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,"

The shade replied,

"If you seek for Eldorado!"

1849.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK

On sunny slope and beechen swell,
The shadowed light of evening fell;
And where the maple's leaf was brown,
With soft and silent lapse came down
The glory that the wood receives,

At sunset, in its golden leaves.

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