OXFORD REVISITED.

I never hear the sound of thy glad bells,

Oxford, and chime harmonious, but I say,

Sighing to think how time has worn away,

Some spirit speaks in the sweet tone that swells,

Heard after years of absence, from the vale

Where Cherwell winds. Most true it speaks the tale

Of days departed, and its voice recalls

Hours of delight and hope in the gay tide

Of life, and many friends now scattered wide

By many fates. Peace be within thy walls!

I have scarce heart to visit thee; but yet,

Denied the joys sought in thy shades,— denied

Each better hope, since my poor Harriet died,

What I have owed to thee, my heart can ne'er forget!