“Dong—dong!” And the sound of a bell
Went wailing away over meadow and mere—“Twelve!”
Counted aloud by the sentinel clock
On the turret of Time; and the regular beat
Of his echoing feet
Fell—like lead—on the ear—
As he left the dead Year on his desolate bier.
THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;
OR, ROSE BUDD.