The voices, which, with joyous glee, oft made
The well remembered walls echo again,
Are gentle and subdued, and even the dog,
The faithful guardian of our rights, seems now
Content to waive his noisy privilege
And, stretched at length upon the sunny step,
Blinks at the buzzing flies. In fair array
Our little flock are watching the deep tone
Of the old bell, to summon them to prayer;
But now, no longer on its ancient seat,