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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 280 pages of information about Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes, Volume II..

‘Well.’

’So it said, “Look up and you shall see.” 
There were two angels sitting in the tree,
As tall as mother; they had long gold hair. 
They let drop down the fruit they gather’d there
And little angels came for it—­so sweet. 
Here they were beggar children in the street,
And the dove said they had the prettiest things,
And wore their best frocks every day.’

’And wings,
Had they no wings?’

’O yes, and lined with white
Like swallow wings, so soft—­so very light
Fluttering about.’

‘Well.’

’Well, I did not stay,
So that was all.’

‘They made you go away?’

‘I did not go—­but—­I was gone.’

‘I know.’

’But it’s a pity, Bob, we never go
Together.’

’Yes, and have no dreams to tell,
But the next day both know it all quite well.’

’And, Bob, if I could dream you came with me
You would be there perhaps.’

‘Perhaps—­we’ll see.’

THE AUSTRALIAN BELL-BIRD.

Toll—­
           Toll.’  ’The bell-bird sounding far away,
  Hid in a myall grove.’  He raised his head,
The bush glowed scarlet in descending day,
  A masterless wild country—­and he said,
My father (’Toll.’) ’Full oft by her to stray,
  As if a spirit called, have I been led;
Oft seems she as an echo in my soul
(’Toll.’) from my native towers by Avon (’Toll’).

(’Toll.’) Oft as in a dream I see full fain
  The bell-tower beautiful that I love well,
A seemly cluster with her churches twain. 
  I hear adown the river faint and swell
And lift upon the air that sound again,
  It is, it is—­how sweet no tongue can tell,
For all the world-wide breadth of shining foam,
The bells of Evesham chiming “Home, sweet home.”

The mind hath mastery thus—­it can defy
  The sense, and make all one as it DID HEAR—­
Nay, I mean more; the wraiths of sound gone by
  Rise; they are present ’neath this dome all clear. 
ONE, sounds the bird—­a pause—­then doth supply
  Some ghost of chimes the void expectant ear;
Do they ring bells in heaven?  The learnedest soul
Shall not resolve me such a question. (’Toll.’)

(’Toll.’) Say I am a boy, and fishing stand
  By Avon (’Toll.’) on line and rod intent,
How glitters deep in dew the meadow land—­
  What, dost thou flit, thy ministry all spent,
Not many days we hail such visits bland,
  Why steal so soon the rare enravishment? 
Ay gone! the soft deceptive echoes roll
Away, and faint into remoteness.’ (’Toll.’)

While thus he spoke the doom’d sun touched his bed
  In scarlet, all the palpitating air
Still loyal waited on.  He dipped his head,
  Then all was over, and the dark was there;
And northward, lo! a star, one likewise red
  But lurid, starts from out her day-long lair,
Her fellows trail behind; she bears her part,
The balefullest star that shines, the Scorpion’s heart

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