 | Ballads and other verses |  |
73
ON A VILLAGE CHURCH IN ENGLAND.
The air is sweet with violets, and the WestRobes in its evening splendor earth and sky.
Whoe'er thou art, here find repose. This spot,
In rustic beauty clad, wooes thee to rest.
The tongue of Time calls from the gray old tower,
And every leaf is whispering Calm and Peace.
Dear, welcome shrine! haunt of the good, farewell!
Oft in my distant home, at twilight hour,
Alone and still, shall I recall this scene,—
The ivied porch, the steeple touched with light,
The hedgerows green, oaks that the centuries crown,
The kindly voices Friendship newly gave,
The chime of waters musical and low,
And songs of birds careering up to heaven.
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