How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
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
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!

DREAM-LAND.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named Night,

Edgar A. Poe.

On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reach'd these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thulé-

From a wild, wierd clime that lieth, sublime
Out of space--out of time.

Edgar A. Poe.

LENORE.

Ан, broken is the golden bowl,

The spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll !

A saintly soul

Floats on the Stygian river.

Edgar A. Poe.

LIFE.

We live in deeds, not years-in thoughts, not breaths ;In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most,-feels the noblest,-acts the best. Philip James Bailey, 1816

LOVE AND POETRY.

POETS are all who love, who feel great truths,
And tell them; and the truth of truths is love.
Philip James Bailey.