Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1839.pdf/80

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"How soft the music of those village bells, Falling, at intervals, upon the ear In cadence sweet,—now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! With easy force it opens all the cells Where mem'ry slept."

is a lovely English sound Upon the English air, It comes when else had silence found Its quiet empire there.

All ordinary signs of life To-day are hushed and still; No voice of labour or of strife Ascends the upland hill.

The leaves in softer music stir, The brook in softer tune; Life rests, and all things rest with her This Sabbath afternoon.

How fair it is! how English fair! No other land could show A pastoral beauty to compare With that which lies below.

The broad green meadow-lands extend Up to the hanging wood, Where oak and beech together blend, That have for ages stood.

What victories have left those trees, What time the winged mast Bore foreign shores and foreign seas St. George's banner past.