01.01.2011, 13:32
OLD STEPHEN
He served his master well from youth to age ;
Who gave him then a little plot of land,
Enough a busy spirit to engage,
Too small to overtax an aged hand.
Old Stephen's memory hallows all the ground ;
He made this thrifty lawn so spruce and small,
Dial and seat within its naiTow bound,
And both half-hid with woodbine from the Hall.
But he is gone at last : how meek he lay
That night, and pray'd his dying hours away—
When the sun rose he ceased to breathe and feel
Day broke—his eyes were on a lovelier dawn,
While ours beheld the sweet May morning steal
Across his dial and his orphan lawn.
He served his master well from youth to age ;
Who gave him then a little plot of land,
Enough a busy spirit to engage,
Too small to overtax an aged hand.
Old Stephen's memory hallows all the ground ;
He made this thrifty lawn so spruce and small,
Dial and seat within its naiTow bound,
And both half-hid with woodbine from the Hall.
But he is gone at last : how meek he lay
That night, and pray'd his dying hours away—
When the sun rose he ceased to breathe and feel
Day broke—his eyes were on a lovelier dawn,
While ours beheld the sweet May morning steal
Across his dial and his orphan lawn.