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November days are dusk and dull,
By sound each leaf's light fall we learn ;
Soon heaves within the boundless frame
'Mid boom, and clang, and stormy swell,
And shadows dashed by blast and rain, Leaves heaped, whirled, routed, sweep the dell,
And glimpses course the leaden main.
And yet, though inward drawn and still,
And they who muse and hope may
With faith assured the future spring;
"How dark soe'er new days may prove,
He strove that clear they might discern
To its fixed law was reconciled,
So still the God revealed below
He stood with zeal the untaught to As one great Will of Good to all,
He taught for Sire and Judge to know,
'Mid fifty faces young and rude,
Amid his poor, unknowing throng
And when the exhausted aching frame
The lonely student oft would shrink, And startling, clasp his painful breast, With long-drawn sigh of Jane would think,
And seek at last reluctant rest.
Yet once again did Jane and he
30. 'Twas then a cold and misty morn, The churchyard seemed a cave of death;
They saw the Yew, by cold unshorn, Stand hearse-like black in winter's breath.
31. And e'en while now the lovers spoke They felt the fog between them rise; Round each it spread a dull gray cloak, And masked them each in vague disguise.
At parting Henry said " Farewell; On Sunday morn we meet again; When first rings out the old church bell,
With merry chant, expect me then." 33.
At last, though slow, that Sunday
And Jane put on her best array,
Her father went to ring the bell,
No step was there: it seemed a knell Whose notes her father's hand was ringing;
She oped the door for breath, the bell So heavily went swinging.
She knew that Henry was not there, And yet she looked below the tree; There stood nor shape of misty air, Nor sunbright face in sunshine free. 37.
She looked the winding road along,
His mid-day meal she must prepare
Once more they reached their home again;
The winter day had changed to night;
Upon the maiden's weary soul
And yet a thrill of shame and fear
And heaven one hour its gaze forget.
But Henry more than all was dear;
To track the wandering mourning shade.
Along the churchyard path she went, And saw above the Yew
The low discoloured firmament,
But swift along the road she sped
The more to hide her face.
And now to Henry's home she came, Where never she had been before; She could not now remember shame, But knocked upon the door.
An aged woman, dull and slow,
8. Jane hurried in, and at the first, These words unpausing said"O! tell me, tell me all the worst! Tell me, is Henry dead?"
He dozed beside the fire, and Jane At last was free from busy light.
She left his frugal supper laid,
She heard him breathe with slumberous tone;
And then, released, the trembling maid Dared slip away alone.
He strove to smile with happier eyes, But could not long the toil sustain ; From his deep glance the meaning flies,
The lids drop down-he longs in vain. 18.
On her young heart his withered hand She laid, and pressed it strongly there, As if her life she could command, And bid it pass to him from her.
He slept. The maiden whispered low,
20. The woman went, and Jane remained With all she e'er had loved the best, His hand upon her bosom strained, Her face by his, but not in rest. 21.
In her large eyes the unthought-of tears
The lingering minutes, measured out
"For here upon my bed of death
26. "My mother, and that humble friend, The boys that were my flock, and thou, To none beside my thoughts extend, Save Him whose heaven is near me
27. "My boys again I fain would see, And speak once more my frequent tale, That only Reason makes men free, That Right and Truth can never fail. 28. "That Reverence is the bond for
With all of highest men may know; That Love must work by Wisdom's plan,
Or be a false and boastful show: 29.
"That Conscience holds supernal
To rend or heal the human breast;
"To them, to thee, my sinking voice,
In Christ alone may those rejoice
33. "Through chill and fire, and smoke and pain,
It calmly shines with widening orb, "Dear Jane," he said, "my only And while to those great beams I love!
I feel I have not long to stay;
"'Tis not that I have much to tell Before my lips their breath resign; But, oh! 'tis peace, 'tis more than well, While thus my hand is clasped in thine.
All dark, all brightness they absorb." 34.
His upward look drew light and peace
But, sighing slow, he turned from
"Last night upon my bed I lay,
And still I could not weep.
"The moonshine filled my room with
A stream of silver air,
And darkened o'er my bed.
"This hand of giant size, I say,
I saw its shadow where I lay,
"Thou wilt have angels near above,
And, father! I beheld,
A form that heavenward swelled.
"The God who gave in me a friend,
Whose look my life-blood froze.
"And when he fixed his gaze on me
"I could not choose but enter there; "I lay and looked, when, le! a hand, And passing down the new-made A giant hand outspread; Methought the moonlit skies it
"It seemed a dark gigantic man,
"One kiss, my Jane-I now must
His eyes grew faint, his eyelids closed,
"Oh! taller far than spire or trees,
"I knew 'twas not an earthly thing
I left the clear and moonlit air,
"With easy slope the passage dived,
"I saw a valley broad and green,
And hills of ancient wood were seen
"Old trees and vast, with caves of
Bright waters foaming down the