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But lo! at last he comes with crowded sail !
Lo, o'er the cliff what eager figures bend !
In each he hears the welcome of a friend.
Soon is the anchor cast, the canvass furled ; Soon through the whitening surge he springs on land, And clasps the maid he singled from the world.
80.—THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. The stately homes of England !
How beautiful they stand,
O'er all the pleasant land !
Through shade and sunny gleam,
Of some rejoicing stream.
Around their hearths by night
Meet in the ruddy light!
Or childish tale is told,
Some glorious page of old.
How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath hours !
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bells' chime
Floats through their woods at morn;
Of breeze and leaf are born.
By thousands on her plains,
And round the hamlet fanes.
Each from its nook of leaves;
As the bird beneath their eaves.
Long, long in hut and hall
And bright the flowery sod,
81 — ADDRESS TO A CHILD DURING A
BOISTEROUS WINTER'S EVENING.
What way does the Wind come? What way does he go?
But bor be wall come, and whither be goes
He may knock at the door,—we'll not let him in ;
By a Female Friend of Wordsworth.
. 82.-THE SAILOR'S MOTHER. One morning (raw it was and wet
A foggy day in winter-time) A woman on the road I met,
Not old, though something past her prime: Majestic in her person, tall and straight;
And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait. The ancient spirit is not dead:
Old times, thought I, are breathing there ;
Such strength, a dignity so fair ;
I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate.
" What is it,” said I, “ that you bear, “ Beneath the covert of your cloak,
“ Protected from this cold damp air ? " She answered, soon as she the question heard,
“ A simple burden, Sir, a little singing bird.” And, thus continuing, she said,
“I had a son, who many a day “ Sailed on the seas, but he is dead;
" In Denmark he was cast away; " And I have travelled many 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 royages
“ This singing-bird had gone with him: * When last he sail'd, 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 pipe its song in safety ,—there
“I found it when my son was dead: “ And now, God help me for my little wit! “ I bear it with me, Sir:—he took so much delight in it.”
83. – WE SCATTER SEEDS.
But for a thousand years
Their fruit appears,
Or healthful store.
We count them ever past
But they shall last-
And we shall meet !