Classic Poem

XXXI.

And sometimes, when the closing day
Shot through the cottage window-pane,
And o'er the mother cast a ray
That kindled all the heart of Jane,—

XXXII.

Then starting she would turn and look.
As if it were the cloven sky
That o'er the quiet face and book
Shot out its glory suddenly.

XXXIII.

And oft while Mary mildly spake
In words now flowing smooth and free,
From Simon's eyes a gleam would break;
So both were taught, his child and he.

XXXIV.

Thus from within and from without,
She grew, a flower for mind and eye;
'Twas love that circled her about,
And love in her made quick reply.

XXXV.

Church, too, and churchyard were to Jane
A realm of dream, and sight, and lore;
And, but for one green field or twain,
All else a sea without a shore.

XXXVI.

Of this her isle the central rock
Stood up in that old tower sublime,
Which uttered from its wondrous clock
The only thought she had of Time.

XXXVII.

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.

XXXVIII.

For now come trooping up the hill
The young and old, the faint and strong;
The white-frocked men the sunshine fill,
And girls, a many-colored throng.

XXXIX.

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.