Beside him he would have her stay, And bones to be her playthings gave. 14. At whiles the busied man would raise And when, slow-winding up the hill, But when the burial rite was there, Which utter'd from its wondrous clock The only thought she had of Time. For her at Sunday-service hours For now came trooping up the hill strong; The white-frock'd men the sunshine fill, And girls, a many-colour'd throng. 39. The sires of all from age to age Were laid below the grassy mould, Whose hillocks were to Jane a page Inscribed with lessons manifold. 40. And in the porch, or on the And in the pause between the prayers, green, She marked each various face and mien With eyes that softened theirs. 41. She marked the mild gray head Or happy look of youthful glow, serene, 1. And well that heart the mother Which he but as from far could prize; PART II. Years flowed away and never brought The weary weight of care to Jane; They gave emotion, wonder, thought, The strength of life without the pain. 2. To her new beauty largely given From deeper fountains looked and smiled; And, like a morning dream from heaven, The woman gleamed within the child. 3. Her looks were oftener turned to earth, But every glance was lovelier now; 'Twas plain that light of inward birth Now kissed the sunshine round her brow. 4. Withdrawn was she from passing eyes By more than Fortune's outward law, By bashful thoughts like silent sighs, By Feeling's lone retiring awe. 5. So fair the veil that twilight weaves Around its golden shows, The war of Will and Doom may bring, 10. 11. The gold-haired maid and hoary man 12. Slow dragged the following day: for him His known familiar life was gone; The Past was something dark and grim That he must look at now alone. But all his fondest heart awoke, 14. She knew not what the mind will Yet only learn the more to brave; That And she could only turn and groan, As if the grief were not his own. 16. Then soon the burial pang was o'er, 17. The maiden now was left to be A loveliness that made men sad, 19. Each household task she duly wrought, No change but one the house could know, And peace for her was in the thought, Her mother would have wished it so. 20. But often in the silent hours Of summer dawn, while men were She rose to gather fragrant flowers, 21. She strewed them o'er her mother's grave, Against the broad yew-trunk she leant, The black boughs' vault of shade adorning, A fixed, fair, living monument, To wither where her joys had faded; Amid the light of morning : |