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Which utter'd from its wondrous clock

The only thought she had of Time.
For her at Sunday-service hours
The world she knew expanded wide,
The chiming bell had wizard powers
To bid new visions round her glide.

The Sexton's Daughter.


For now came trooping up the hill The young and old, the faint and strong;

The white-frock'd men the sunshine fill,

And girls, a many-colour'd throng.


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.

And in the porch, or on the green, And in the pause between the prayers, She marked each various face and mien

With eyes that softened theirs.


She marked the mild gray head serene, Or happy look of youthful glow,

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Would stamp upon her infant thought A fear ill understood. 43.

She turned from these and blushed, and heard

With deeper sense the prayer and praise,

And oft some strange but holy word Her soul in vague delight could raise. 44. The child between her parents knelt,

Who prayed the more to God above, Because so close to them they felt The dearest gift of heavenly love.


And well that heart the mother

Which he but as from far could prize ;
For scarce an impulse in it grew
But Mary first had seen it rise.

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Of passion's sad Sublime;


The war of Will and Doom may bring,
While all that on the dreadless flower
Stands waiting but the signal hour
To sweep on fiery wing.


Heavy and stern came down the blow
On her who had no shield of pride;
Who never felt the grasp of wo
Until her mother died.

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And many books had Henry read,
And other tongues than ours he knew,
His heart with many fancies fed
Which oft from hidden wells he drew.
What souls heroic dared and bore
In ancient days for love and duty,
What sages could by thought explore,
What poets sang of beauty:

7. With these he dwelt, because within His breast was full of silent fire. No praise of men he cared to win, More high was his desire ; 8. To be, to know whate'er of Good To man below is given; And, asking Truth as daily food, Seek little more from Heaven. 9.

To him the friend of all his days
Had been his saintly mother,
And ev'n the playmate of his plays—
He never wished another.


And each upon the other gazed,
With eyes from sorrow cold and slow;
They knew not why, but felt amazed
That each was not alone in wo.

Few moments they together stayed, And few the broken words they spake, And parted so, the man and maid, Their separate paths alone to take,


For he was weak and oft in pain ;
From noisy sports he shrank away;
But songs to sing, or tales to feign,
For him made holiday.

And she had lived in cities wide,
Had sailed across the fearful ocean,
Could tell of wealth, and camps, and

And peopled earth's commotion.


And books had she a precious store,
With words whose light was never
Five crowded shelves, like mines of


Or undiscovered realms for him. 13.

A surgeon had the husband been, Who left this young and widowed bride;

He left her while her leaves were green,

But ah! they withered when he died. 14.

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When pained below he looked above, Yet scorned no flower of nature's sod.


And when to fill the ripening man
In deeper flow Reflection came,
When Thought and Wish their strife
Fears, Passions, Doubts no longer


Though small the help 'twas hers to give,

For deep not wide her best of lore,"Still, still," she said, " by Conscience


"My son, for these to toil is good,
For these to none who seek denied ;
And thought must be thy lonely food,
No teacher at thy side.'

No teacher had he; but a friend,
The only friend in Henry's reach,
The kindly Vicar, books would lend,
And counsel, though unskilled to teach.


And Peace and Truth from Heaven Devoutest peace around she shed, The calm without the trance of sleep.



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He knew not if he slept or woke,
'Twas all exhaustion's clouded gloom,
When light like moonshine round him

And showed his mother's grassy tomb.


And when the toilsome day was past,
And darkness veiled his burning eyes,
Upon the bed his limbs he cast,
And wished he ne'er again might rise.

A flitting wish and soon recalled;
But still there lived within his mind
A shame for courage thus appalled,
For faith so weak, and reason blind.

And o'er it floated, borne in air,
Her form serene in brightness clad,
With glistening stars around the hair,
And eyes of love no longer sad.


Her looks like summer lightning spread,

And filled the boundless heavenly deep;

He knew not how, but soon was gone The phantom shape that blessed his eyes;

The churchyard Yew-tree, black and lone,

Stood up against the starry skies.


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