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Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we hear,
Flatter, and but cheat our ear.
This doth put us still in mind
That our flesh must be resigned,
And, a general silence made,
The world be muffled in a shade.
(Orpheus' lute, as poets tell,
Was but moral of this bell,
And the captive soul was she,
Which they called Eurydice,
Rescued by our holy groan,
A loud echo to this tone.]
SHIRLEY-The Passing Bell.


Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be.

TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.


Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.


Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.
TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.


Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.
TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CVI.


Softly the loud peal dies,

In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones.



Curfew must not ring to-night.

ROSA H. THORPE Title of Poem.

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