Alas! the fowls of Heaven have wings, Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, Or hast been summoned to the Deep, I look for Ghosts; but none will force That there was ever intercourse My apprehensions come in crowds; Beyond participation lie My troubles, and beyond relief: XXIII. THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT. BY A FEMALE FRIEND. THE days are cold, the nights are long, The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, Nay! start not at that sparkling light; And wake when it is day. XXIV. THE SAILOR'S MOTHER. ONE morning (raw it was and wet A Woman on the road I met, Not old, though something past her prime: The ancient Spirit is not dead; Old times, thought I, are breathing there; Such strength, a dignity so fair: She begged an alms, like one in poor estate; I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate. When from these lofty thoughts I woke, She answered, soon as she the question heard, "A simple burthen, Sir, a little Singing-bird." And, thus continuing, she said, And I have travelled weary miles to see If aught which he had owned might still remain for me. "The Bird and Cage they both were his: 'Twas my Son's Bird; and neat and trim He kept it: many voyages This Singing-bird had gone with him; When last he sailed, he left the Bird behind; From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind. "He to a Fellow-lodger's care Had left it, to be watched and fed, And now, God help me for my little wit! I bear it with me, Sir, he took so much delight in it." XXV. THE CHILDLESS FATHER. “Up, Timothy, up with your Staff and away! Of coats and of jackets grey, scarlet, and green, On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen; With their comely blue aprons, and caps white as snow, The girls on the hills made a holiday show. Fresh springs of green box-wood, not six months before, A Coffin through Timothy's threshold had past; Now fast up the dell came the noise and the fray, Perhaps to himself at that moment he said, XXVI. THE EMIGRANT MOTHER. ONCE in a lonely Hamlet I sojourned In which a Lady driven from France did dwell; This Lady, dwelling upon English ground, * In several parts of the North of England when a funeral takes place, a basin full of Sprigs of Box-wood is placed at the door of the house from which the coffin is taken up, and each person who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a Sprig of this Box-wood, and throws it into the grave of the deceased. |