But deeming it no more, alas! Yet perchance a sleepless wight, When the dusk and hush of night Of daylight and its toil and strife, May listen with a calm delight Till he hears, or dreams he hears, Intermingled with the song, Thoughts that he has cherished long; Hears amid the chime and singing The bells of his own village ringing, And wakes, and finds his slumberous eyes Wet with most delicious tears. Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay Listening with a wild delight To the chimes that, through the night, |