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Christmas at the hall

The Voice of the Sea.

Reading edition

I hear the deep voice of the sea, As slowly it breaks on the shore, With the self-same tone To my childhood known— Its music for evermore! How sublimely its accents fall And pierce each recess of the soul, Recalling the past With a trumpet’s blast, And a might beyond control! It tells of the gay infant hours When I play’d on the sun-lit sand, Whilst each shell and stone Was a wealth unknown, And the beach a fairy-land. It speaks of the wild boyish days When I roam’d to the rocks afar, Where the black sea-weed Cracks loud to the tread, And shell-fish in thousand are. All times on my spirit come back When I’ve dwelt by thy shore, O sea; Each friend I have known, Each look and each tone, Now cruelly reft from me. Thy voice is the voice of a dirge, And mournfully sighs for the dead; Sound on, then, thy knell, Like a funeral bell, For the loved who from earth have fled. Yet Hope seems to sweeten the sound, Bright Faith, and her sister Love; For whilst on thy brink, I cheerfully think, Of the calm blue heavens above!

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