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Show A CHILD OF SEVEN. Algernon C. Swinburne. ' All the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may s!n?, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together; Sweeter far than all things heard, Haud of harper, tone of bird, Sounds of wood's at sundown stirred, Welling water's winsome word, Wind in warm, warm weather; One thing yet there is, that none Hearing ere its chimes be done. Knows not well the sweetest one . Heard of man beneath the sun Hoped in heaven hereafter; Solt and strong, and loud and light, Very round and very light, ' Heard from morning's rosiest height, Where the foul of all delight Fills a child's clear laughter. Golden bells of welcome rolled Never forth such notes, nor told Hours so blithe in tones so bold As the radiant mouth of gold, Here that rings fort h heaven. If the golden-crested wren Were a nightingale why then, 8 imethlug seeu and heard of men Might be half as sweot as when Laughs a child of seven. |